


Thicker Than Water

by SkywardGeek



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because that's all I write, Confusion, F/M, Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Multi, OT3, Poor Life Choices, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark is an idiot, more tags to come, vampire!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 14:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywardGeek/pseuds/SkywardGeek
Summary: Blood is thicker than water. But that's not quite it.The Blood of the Covenant is thicker than the Water of the Womb.And some covenants can only be made with blood, and have little use for water. Or Sunlight. Or Garlic.Some covenants are binding for as long as you live. And some are binding long after.And these are incredibly difficult to leave.Difficulty never stopped Tony before. Why would it stop him now?





	1. A Meeting He Should Remember

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone thinks they have a better title, please let me know

“What’cha doing?” Tony leaned over Steve’s shoulder.

He could clearly see the Captain was reading the newspaper but hey, he was bored, and even he could only manage so much isolation brought on by an inventing binge.

“Reading the newspaper,” Steve replied with tired patience, “have you risen for air for a while? Or just got distracted on your way to your next cup of coffee?”

“Shit, my coffee,” Tony ran out the room, returning a moment later clutching a still steaming mug, “still warm,” he grinned, eyes crinkling as he did.

Steve smiled back. Tony never failed to make him smile. He patted the couch, Tony flopping down next to him, careful not to spill even a drop of coffee. Tony sighed happily. He wiggled, sinking further down into the comfy couch. Tony closed his eyes as he drained his mug, looking more alive for it.

”Anything going on in the world?” Tony asked, peering over his mug at the paper, “or anything relating to me?”

”You mean, besides your own gala tonight?” Steve laughed.

”Shit, that’s tonight?”

”Yeah, doll,” Bucky answered, striding in with a mug of his own coffee, “you didn’t forget right? We’re all going.”

Bucky grimaced at the thought. He reckoned he would always hate being paraded about like a show dog. He had no idea how Tony did it on such a regular basis. It was completely exhausting. He moved to take a sip from his mug. Tony gave it a longing look and whined in his throat. Bucky gave him a weird look before sitting heavily down next to him.

”Back off, this mug’s mine. There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen.”

Tony whined again, pouting at Bucky. He almost took a sip. So close. But damn, Tony did not realise how powerful those puppy-dog eyes were. And Bucky was so glad Tony only ever used them for coffee. He’d give Tony the world if he asked him with those eyes. Instead he passed his mug to Tony with a sigh, and rose to get more coffee. Steve chuckled. If Bucky hadn’t he certainly would have. Tony sipped contently, leaning over Steve again to read an article in the business section. Tony sighed irritably, running a hand through his hair.

”Who writes this shit?” Tony muttered, “seriously, Cross Industries isn’t even close to my stuff. And Hammer, Hammer can shove his phones up his-”

Steve covered Tony’s mouth with his palm, feeling Tony grin underneath. Tony eased the hand away and gave him a ‘c’mon, really?’ look. Steve conceded with a tilt of his head. Bucky returned, this time holding two mugs. He sat down and handed the other to Tony. Gratefully accepting it, Tony drained it and stacked the empty mug on top of the other empty cups.

”Thank you Bucky,” Tony sang at him, grabbing the TV remote.

Bucky smirked behind his cup, “anything for you, doll.”

Tony didn’t hear him over the sudden blasting sound emitting from the TV. Yelling for Jarvis to help, the TV lowered immediately. Tony flicked through the channels, settling on one of the old movie channels.

”Wizard of Oz, Tony? Really?” Bucky asked, unable to control the fondness in his voice rushing forth.

Tony made a soft mmm-hmm noise, setting the remote on the table.

”It’s one of my favourites,” Steve supported Tony, folding the newspaper and throwing it onto the coffee table next to the remote.

”I know,” Tony said absently, wiggling his foot in time to ‘ding dong the witch is dead’, “we have to do the whole glad-handing thing later and neither of you like that. But you like this film,” Tony chattered away, not giving much thought to his words.

Steve placed his hand on Tony’s knee, squeezing lightly. Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, fingers gently brushing Tony’s shoulder.

 

They’d been skating around this for weeks. ‘This’ being something new and completely unlabeled. Bucky and Steve had been together since Bucky’s return but they’d been trying to court Tony for a couple of months now. And yet Tony always limited the physical affection. He’d agree to grab a burger, or go out for coffee, or even attend the theatre with them. But he would never initiate contact, hugs were kept to two seconds or less, whenever they tried to hint at wanting something more, Tony would bolt out the room. They were both certain Tony liked them. Bucky had seen Tony staring at Steve’s ass - he’d been doing the same thing. They had actually both been sat next to each other in the kitchen, a running commentary between them as Steve reached into a cupboard and cooked. But the moment Tony realised who he’d been talking to, he turned bright red and fled. Steve had always noticed Tony staring at Bucky’s hands. Not just the metal one - although the look he gave that arm made Steve blush - but the flesh one. And Steve could understand one hundred percent. He loved Bucky’s hands, the gentleness hidden behind their strength. Tony had often worked on the metal one with fervent interest - doing with it what he did to so many things - pulling it apart and making it better. But whenever Bucky tapped his fingers on a desk, or rubbed the back of his neck, or - heaven forbid - touched his lips, Tony would either walk out the room as he turned the colour of a ripe strawberry or freeze and stare, mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t subtle. It was Steve’s favourite form of entertainment, seeing how many times in a day they could make Tony Stark, the self proclaimed playboy, blush like a high school boy with his first crush. And once he clued Bucky in, that number rose sky high.

 

The credits rolled and no one moved. Tony’s head had fallen forwards, eyes closed.

”How long was he awake for?” Bucky whispered to Steve.

Steve shook his head in frustration, “too long. I think it was around three days.”

”You are correct, Captain. Additionally, sir has failed to sleep longer than twenty-two minutes and seventeen seconds within the last 96 hours.”

Bucky groaned quietly, “and we have to wake him up. He’s got that damn gala.”

”I’m not waking him,” Steve grinned at his partner.

”Well I don’t want to either. You do it!”

”No, you do it!”

This argument continued on for nearly twenty minutes. Back and forth with no end in sight.

”Or,” came a voice from between them, “you just argue over who’s going to wake me up, until your voices become loud enough to actually wake me up,” Tony stretched his neck, rotating his head until the joints clicked, “but I needed to be up anyway or Pepper will have my head. Or a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s. Her pick.”

Tony yawned and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He left the room quickly after, muttering about suits and colours of ties. Bucky grinned slyly at Steve. Steve shook his head.

”Don’t you dare,” he threatened.

”But I wanna ask him,” Bucky whined.

Natasha walked into the room in an elegant emerald gown, shaking her head and sipping from a hip flask.

”Why are you shaking your head?” Bucky asked suspiciously.

”Because I don’t think you should ask him yet,” Natasha admitted before adding, “I don’t think he even knows you’re interested yet.”

”How is that even possible?” Clint asked, trying to tie his bow tie as he walked.

Natasha tutted and batted his hands away before fixing it for him. She tied it neatly before resting her hands on his chest. Clint lay his own over hers. Natasha smiled softly at him before that smile turned towards her other teammates.

”You need to get ready, it won’t just be Tony’s head she’ll have. And I don’t think you could afford it if she chose shoes.”

”Tony would bail them out,” Clint stated as though his thought was fact.

Bucky rolled his eyes but stood when Steve did, both of them leaving the room to don a different kind of battle armour. A custom made tuxedo. Tony refused to let them wear anything less.

 

The night was underway. And Tony was very, very bored. Leaning against the bar, he sipped a glass of scotch. Natasha was currently surrounded by men. Tony caught her eye for just a moment. She smiled a dangerous smile, one that promised her swift and imminent revenge for dragging her to the gala. Steve, the gentleman he was, had tried to pull her from the gaggle of men. She shooed him away, smiling sweetly at her company. She was better than Tony could ever be, the men parting with cash and cheques in the hopes of getting her attention for a little longer. And once their wallets ran dry she moved on. And her latest group were fast approaching that point, Natasha sliding away from them without notice. She was by Tony’s elbow in the next second.

”Can I go now?” She asked sullenly.

”I’d never make you stay,” Tony said simply.

She intercepted his scotch, downing it in one before signaling the bar tender for another.

”I know you wouldn’t,” she smiled appreciatively at him, before surveying the crowd.

Her eyes never lingered long but Tony watched as she took in everything before her. Her lips curled into a ghost of a smile when her eyes landed on Clint.

”You could just ask him out?” Tony posited, grinning at Clint as the man made his crowd laugh with what would have undoubtedly been an inappropriate joke.

Clint grimaced for a moment, clearly hating every moment. But he persevered.

“It’s never that simple though, is it?” Natasha countered, eyes falling on Steve and Bucky.

They were on the edge of the dance floor, Bucky trying to convince a stubborn Steve to dance with him. Life is never simple.

”It could be,” Tony sighed, looking at his watch, “It could be,” he repeated, “if you let it.”

”Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire is giving me love advice.”

Tony chuckled darkly, “yeah, I wouldn’t trust my advice either. I won’t take offense.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment, standing with him as they drank. Alcohol helped make this whole night easier. This was nothing more than a fancy way to beg people for money. Natasha only came because she knew Tony wanted her there, even if he’d never ask. He wanted the whole team but would never ask them. He’d never ask for anything he wanted. That would be showing weakness, giving people something to leverage over him. An ‘I did this for you, so now you need to do something for me’ scenario. He’d never let that happen. So she made sure everyone came anyway. She’d been to one of these parties with him once, just the two of them, and she would never forget his face, his smile. He was like a mannequin, a fake forced into a synthetic life. It wasn’t him. But he seemed more at ease when the team joined him. She couldn’t tell if it was so he could protect them, so they could protect him, or if he just liked their company. She secretly hoped it was the latter. It would be nice to have even one more person enjoy her company.

”Seriously though, you should speak to him,” Tony said around his glass, as though he hoped to hide his words.

”I will, the moment you tell Steve and Bucky how you feel,” she smirked at him, watching as his face grew luminescent.

”I feel like they are good together and that it would be a shame if anything or anyone was selfish enough to put their own needs first and cause them to have even a single thread of contention,” he said it so quickly, forcing down another scotch before slamming the glass down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “That, Natasha, is how I feel.”

”Chicken.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “and you are just the same.”

She conceded, kissing his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. Another round of begging to do.

 

“Care to dance?”

Bucky was bowing low, and offering his hand. Tony smiled at him, the proper gentleman.

”Sure your boyfriend won’t mind?” He teased lightly, even with the truth in his words.

Bucky smiled at him, “nah, he claims he’s got two left feet.”

Tony nodded earnestly, “he does. I have tried to teach him to dance for one of these shindigs before. I had to teach him in steel-capped boots.”

”So you’ll dance with me?” he asked again, hope glittering in his eyes.

Tony rolled his eyes, but set his drink aside and took Bucky’s offered hand. They glided onto the dance floor, Bucky commanding the lead. Tony didn’t mind, taking Bucky’s hand and placing his other on Bucky’s shoulder. But he became intimately aware with Bucky’s other hand, resting heavily against the small of his back. But soon they were waltzing across the dance floor and Tony got swept away in movement and music. It felt like it was just the two of them in the world, lost to musical notes and a 1-2-3 rhythm. As the song ended, Bucky dipped Tony, holding up his entire body with his metal arm. And Tony blushed to his roots. He coughed awkwardly and Bucky let him up with a grin on his face.

”The press’ll talk,” Tony muttered, unable to meet Bucky’s eyes.

If he did, he’d throw himself at the man. That would definitely give the press something to talk about.

”Thanks doll, we should do it again sometime.”

Tony nodded, throat suddenly as dry as a bone, “I’m- Imma get a drink,” he walked away without another word.

 

Steve met him at the bar, “hell of a dancer.”

”He is.”

”I meant you,” Steve smiled easily, folding his arms on the bar and signaling for more drinks.

Tony shook his head slightly, “surprised your eyes weren’t on Barnes.”

Steve sighed and shook his head as well, “My eyes are normally on James, but maybe I wanted to linger on someone else tonight.”

Tony swallowed hard. Was Steve implying what Tony thought he was implying? Sure a one night threesome would be great but honestly, Tony wasn’t that guy anymore.

”I don’t want a one night stand,” he said simply.

”That’s not what I want either.”

Oh. So it’s that then. Steve wants Tony as his… side-chick? There had to be a better term for it than that. But relevant term or no, Tony wasn’t interested.

”You still love Bucky, right?”

”Yeah,” Steve’s tone was questioning, trying to figure out where Tony was trying to lead him.

”Then don’t do this. It fucks people up,” Tony sighed, bad memories rising up like a snake poised to attack.

She never meant to. It just happened. But isn’t that what they all say. They weren’t working out, Tony knew that deep down. It was one time and she told him immediately. He’d been working long hours and she was lonely. But that was that. She couldn’t take it back and Tony didn’t want her to. It was the wake-up call he needed. So they broke up. He was alone and she started dating the one she slept with. He hoped they’d be happy together. Pepper and Happy, happy together. He was sure there was some irony in there somewhere. But that was that. He wasn’t vengeful or bitter. Just… regretting some things. He was left to himself, picking the relationship apart. Reverse engineer it until he could pinpoint the moment everything went wrong. But that was it, it was _everything_. And the kick in the crotch was he had to see her daily. He was over her but the memories still hurt. The team didn’t know why they broke up. Just that they did. Easier that way, keep Pepper away from their wrath.

”Tony, that’s not what I-”

”Save it, honestly. If you love him, don’t do this to him. It doesn’t matter how much you drank or how much he hurt you. Don’t do it.”

”Tony, that’s not what I meant at all!” Steve argued indignantly.

”Mr Stark, am I interrupting?”

Tony turned to a small dark haired woman, dressed elegantly in black dress, with cut out sections at the waist and a slit halfway up her thigh. Her hair was styled into tumbling curls. But it was her eyes that held Tony’s attention. Outlined in black kohl and the colour of melted chocolate, but when she shifted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, they caught the light and glowed gold. They were honey, sweet and sticking. She smiled up at him through her lashes.

”Not at all.”

”I’m glad,” she laughed lightly, hand coming to rest on Tony’s arm, “I was hoping to meet you here. I wish to discuss a business proposal,” she posed it delicately, like a question.

She was giving him control and Tony knew exactly what she was doing. He’d seen people attempt this tactic a hundred times. Make the opponent think they are in control but twist them around your little finger. Hell he was king of this.

”Of course,” Tony smiled at her, “would you like to make an appointment? Or we can do this tonight if you prefer. There is a meeting room down the hall.”

She nodded and lead the way down the hall. Tony turned to give Steve one last look over.

”Please, just think carefully.”

And then he left.

 

Champagne was waiting for them in the room, condensation dripping down the stem of the glasses. She had it set up ready. Tony looked at her, assessing her movement, her words. Had she purposely approached him at that moment, waiting for him to get into a conversation he didn’t want to have before she pulled him from it? Or had it simply been good timing, a happy coincidence? She sat down gracefully, sweeping her dress beneath her. Tony joined her, snagging a glass of champagne and handing it to her before grabbing another for himself.

“Mr Stark, I don’t believe we’ve met before, though I hugely admire your work.”

”Aww, flatterer,” Tony teased.

They were sat close, Tony at the head of the table and the dark haired woman sitting down to his left.

”It’s not flattery if it’s true, Mr Stark.”

She was leaning in close. Her hand was resting right next to his. Another inch and her hand would be on his. Flirtatious. Interesting.

”Please, call me Tony.”

”Only if you call me Audrey.”

”Of course, Audrey,” he said her name slowly, almost sensual.

Two could play her game.

”I have a proposal. My group is about to face an era of turmoil and we seek your help.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “what kind of turmoil?”

”The kind the Avengers are often sent to handle,” she answered swiftly, succinctly.

”And your group is-”

”A collective of like minded people with a certain lifestyle. We are being targeted and we wish for you to aid in protecting us.”

”Just me? Not the other Avengers?”

”Just you,” she answered, meeting his eyes and holding him there, “You may not be aware but your mother and father were part of our collective until their untimely demise. The group targeting us is also responsible for their demise.”

”And you say this is a business proposal, that means I am expected to get something out of this.”

”So cold, Tony,” Audrey smiled, but it was a smile that rivaled Natasha’s, “of course you would get something. You would have the chance to gain closure for their deaths. But beyond that, we would be willing to share our powers with you and you could if desired join our collective.”

”Powers?” That got him curious.

”Indeed. Strength, durability, healing abilities far beyond that of the average human. Those are the base powers, some of us develop secondary powers, unique to us.”

”And you can share these powers with anyone?”

”Yes,” she smiled sweetly, trying to suck him in.

”Sounds highly dangerous.”

Surprise. For just a moment she was surprised. That was not what she expected. Not the answer she wanted. Audrey sipped on a glass of champagne. She ran her finger around the rim, watching Tony process everything.

”We vet every possible recipient of our powers to make sure they use them for positive purposes. We want to build the world. Not destroy it.”

”I’m sorry Audrey. These powers sound like they could become easily weaponized. And I don’t think I am the right person to receive them-”

”That makes you the right person, Tony.”

”Regardless, my company and by extension myself will have nothing to do with such things. I left the weapons business a long time ago.”

”Please, Tony. You need to consider this seriously. We are not requesting the services of your company or the Avengers. We only ask for you to help us, as your father did before you.”

Tony sighed, nodding, “I understand that but I am not my father. You have been deliberately coy about your group-”

”For your own protection,” Audrey insisted, “if they decide to come after you and they find out we spoke-”

”So you’ve painted a target on my back,” Tony stated quietly.

Great, another group of people who might try and kill him. She nodded silently.

”I am trying to protect my family. Wouldn’t you do the same?” she argued fiercely.

Tony would, time and again, “okay, give me your card. I’ll think about it.”

She slid her card across the table, rising slowly, “thank you Tony.” She walked from the room, pausing at the door, “and please, be careful. They want you as much as we do. I hope to see you again and I hope the circumstances are good,” she said everything so softly before disappearing out the room.

 

He rejoined the party. No one had noticed he’d gone, bar Steve who was giving him a wide berth. Maybe he’d overstepped a line, maybe he shouldn’t have said what he’d said. Or maybe it was his own insecurities that drove him to think that way. Urgh, he should just go over and apologise. Eventually he managed to corner Steve at the bar.

”Steve. I stepped over the line earlier. I’m sorry.”

And Tony skedaddled before he could say anything to make things worse. He said his piece. That was it. He was done. He headed straight back to the bar, the bar tender instantly sliding a glass of whiskey to him. He raised it to his lips but a hand grabbed it from him.

”I need this more than you do,” Clint said with a haunted look in his eyes.

”I grew up doing this,” Tony grinned, watching as Clint looked around the room with unveiled repulsion.

Clint dipped his head slightly, “fair enough,” he offered the glass back but Tony refused.

”You get used to it.”

”Really?” His eyebrow was arched, a perfectly skeptical arch.

Tony sighed, shaking his head. They drank in silence, letting everyone else in the room fend for themselves. After a few minutes, Clint nudged him with his elbow. He cocked his chin towards a woman across the room. At first Tony thought it was Natasha. But no, the hair was the wrong shade. Natasha’s hair was warm, in orange and red, like a fire burning in a hearth. But this woman’s hair was darker, crimson instead of Nat’s scarlet. It was glossy and straight, strands of hair framing her face. It looked like a waterfall of blood cascading over her shoulders. She met Tony’s eyes for a moment, smiling and raising her glass in a toast across the room. Tony mirrored with a smile.

”Do you know her?” Clint asked.

”No clue, maybe one of our investors.”

”She’s been watching you for since you joined the room again.”

Tony nodded, watching the woman. She kept her distance and seemed to be flirting with Tony’s many business associates. Eventually Tony forgot about her, and the night began drawing to its long overdue end. Tony shooed the Avengers away. They all looked exhausted. More so that after any villain they had ever fought. This sort of thing did require a different energy and there was no adrenaline to keep you going. So Tony sent them home to recover, Clint giving Natasha a piggy-back as she hooked strappy heels around a finger. Steve and Bucky were all but joined at the waist, arms wrapped around each other. They were both giddy, tottering back to the tower.

 

Tony smiled at their backs, waving goodbye. He remained to say farewell to the last stragglers, the majority thanking him or trying to worm an appointment or something more sinister from him. No Audrey though. Must have left early. He played with her card in his pocket, turning it over in his palm, turning over her words in his mind. There seemed only two options. The first, she was telling the truth and he was potentially in danger. The second, she was lying. Which seemed unlikely. She knew that his parents death was no accident; something that wasn’t common knowledge. But if she was telling the truth, he was in danger. And that meant the team was in danger. He needed to deal with this without getting them involved. Fuck. He ran a hand through his hair, disordering the strands from their perfectly styled ‘do. The team, they were finally having a quiet week. So he pulled the card out of his pocket and began punching in the number. He could hear the ring tone echoing around the massive dance hall. It was silent and empty except for him. The number rang out.

”You’ve reached Audrey De’Sang, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get right back to you.”

He’d try again in the morning. It was late. Maybe she’s gone to bed. Or to one of the after parties that always occurred after his galas. Whatever. He sighed, stretching his arms high above his head. It was late, well past midnight, and he was tired. He could feel his age in the ache of his back and the pain in his neck. Nothing he could do. He shrugged his jacket on and made his way to the building’s front steps. No driver. Odd. Maybe Pepper had taken the car back. The tower was only a couple of blocks away. Guess he had to walk.


	2. Just the Flu

He wasn’t quite sure what happened. And he didn’t like that feeling. One moment he was walking towards the tower under the night sky. And the next he was curled up inside a cardboard box. The thin strands of sunlight that crept into his little shelter gave him a crippling headache. No, hangover probably. He never knows which drink should be his last for the night. He crawled out the box, squinting at the early dawn light, the beauty of it destroyed by the orange glow of streetlamps. Odd, the light from the streetlamps didn’t bother him in the slightest. But the minuscule amount of sunlight that made it past the buildings and garbage around him, that’s what led to a burning pain in his eyes. He stumbled out of the alley, thankful to find all his clothes in tact. His keys, wallet, and phone were all in his pocket. But his body ached, and this time it wasn’t because of how old he felt. He pulled up his shirt to inspect. He had a weird purple bruise down his back, and his skin was pale, almost translucent. His nails were dirty but had no colour to them, but his fingers and hands were turning blue. His skin felt taut across his body, cold to the touch. He needed to go back to the tower, figure out what the hell had happened.

 

He walked quickly. What small amount of warmth the sunbeams provided itched at his skin. It felt like claws raking across his neck. It took him five long minutes to make it to the tower, walking quickly in. But when he reached the elevator, it didn’t work. Sensors must be on the blink. His bio-metrics weren’t working either. He typed in his override code, and stood in the elevator. Wow. He really regretted putting mirrors in here. His skin was mottled grey and purple. He looked ill. But the purple was fading, he was watching it fade away. He rubbed his eyes, hardly believing them. And when he looked again, there was no purple at all. Only a horrible pallor left. Which probably comes from sleeping in a box overnight. His hands were still kind of blue, but maybe that was lingering effects from hypothermia. Who was to say? The elevator doors slid open, Tony coming face to face with every Avenger that resided in his tower.

”What the Hell?! Jarvis, you woke us up at the ass-crack of dawn for Tony.”

”My sensors are unable to scan him. Please confirm that it is Anthony Edward Stark.”

”Be nice to Jarvis, he was just trying to protect you,” Tony huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his hands into his armpits.

”Pretty sure that’s Tony,” Natasha grinned.

Tony stepped into the hallway, the electric lights washing out his skin. Clint swallowed audibly. Steve and Bucky gasped, hands reaching out to touch him. Natasha stayed their hands with her own, stepping forward.

”You look like death.”

”Thanks,” Tony grinned sardonically, “I feel like it too. Let this be a lesson, don’t drink if you’re my age.”

”I’m never going to be your age,” Clint joked.

”You will someday, birdbrain.”

”Nah, I’m gonna live forever.”

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed past them, “Jay, what’s up with the sensors? Calibration? New Parts? Total Overhaul?”

”If I may speak with you privately, sir.”

Tony frowned. Why would Jay need to speak with him privately? What would Jay not be willing to say in front of the other Avengers?

 

Tony shut the door to his bedroom. Jarvis had done a sweep of the floors, with Tony doing one of his own. But nope, nothing turned up. Not even Clint in the vents. According to Jarvis, they were all still standing around the elevator, not saying anything.

”Jay, what happened? Were we hacked?”

”Certainly not,” Jarvis replied primly.

”Yeah, didn’t think so,” Tony nodded, leaning against his door and crossing his arms.

The sun was almost completely up. Tony had a migraine coming, he could feel it. Like a Jackhammer splitting apart his head. But this really couldn’t wait until later.

”So what? You can’t ‘see’ me,” Tony asked, making the air quotes with his fingers.

”Not by any means you have provided me,” Jarvis answered, sounding confused and irritated, “You are giving off no measurable thermal energy, there is no measurable CO2 change in the room, you are not setting off any motion detectors on the premise, you are not triggering facial recognition, your bio-metric scan shows incomplete data. If I may be honest for a moment-”

”Always.”

”You are a ghost on my system.”

”Well that’s not good,” Tony scrubbed a hand over his jaw, “that’s not good at all.”

”I’m afraid I must run the impostor protocol.”

”Go for it.”

 

The impostor protocol. Something Tony put in place in case anyone managed to find a way to duplicate or clone any of the Avengers, or their friends. Part of the protocol was, should any of the Avengers use their override code for the main elevator, the rooftop door, to access the quinjet, or any of their weaponry or technology, the other Avengers would be summoned to determine why an override needed to be used. But the next part, Tony didn’t like at all. He left the bedroom and headed down to his lab. Blood, pee, saliva. All needed to be analysed, for DNA, Drugs, Micro-technology, anything that may interfere with Jarvis. Next up, X-Rays. Dual Purpose. For the Human members of the team it helped confirm identity through bone breaks and dental records. It also allowed them to scan all members for anything that may mess with Jarvis. But nothing turned up.

”There’s an anomaly in your blood, sir.”

Scratch that last thought.

”Wha’ ya mean?” Tony ask around a mouthful of wires as he opened up Jarvis’s sensory control.

”I am not sure. It’s no known drug. It appears to be biological, but it matches nothing previously discovered.”

”So I have a virus that makes me invisible to technology. Cool.”

”By no definition is this ‘cool’, sir. It will drastically affect your work, as well as having a severe impact on the controls of the Iron Man suit.”

”What!?” Tony screeched, falling off his wheeled stool.

The seat skittered away from him, crashing into a table. Tony stood up, staring at his suit. He walked up to it, stroking a hand down the chest plate.

”Jay, I need you to research everything you can about this biological contaminant. Is it contagious and if so how does it spread? What’s its incubation period? Will it-” Tony swallowed hard, “will it kill me?”

”I will find out, sir.”

And Jarvis sounded melancholy.

”I’ll be fine, Jay. I always am.”

”I question that daily, sir.”

”That’s better,” Tony grinned at the ceiling, twirling his arms.

He needed to pretend things were fine. And he needed Jarvis to do the same.

”Jay, one last thing. Don’t say anything to the others. Store all data on Private Sever Alpha. Encrypt, stick a firewall around it, whatever you need to do to make it inaccessible to anyone else.”

”Of course sir. May I recommend something?”

”Shoot.”

”May I recommend that you wear sensory devices on your wrists or ankles, so that I may keep track of your whereabouts.”

”Great idea.”

Tony slipped on some tracking cuffs. Just like wearing a watch. On each hand.

 

He tried to shower. Tried. No matter what temperature Jarvis adjusted the water to be, it scolded Tony’s skin. He crawled out of the shower, gasping for breath and shouting for Jay to cut the water. Angry red streaks stood stark on his grey skin. What the actual fuck?

”Jay, what was the highest temperature?”

”68 degrees Fahrenheit, sir, though I advised against setting the water at such a low temperature.”

What? That was unnaturally low. He should be shivering now. But instead his skin was blistering across his shoulders and back. But he needed to get clean.

”Jay, can you run a bath? Entirely cold water, no hot at all.”

Tony picked up a bottle of flowery scented shower gel and dumped the contents into the bath. Immediately bubbles started foaming up, filling the entirety of the white marble tub. Tony dipped a cautious toe into the water. It was fine. No burning pain. Tony slid the rest of his body into the water. He kept his head up, to avoid unwanted memories that were already screaming at him in the back of his mind. He rubbed soap over himself, washing away alley dirt and sweat. He felt better for being clean, and the cold water was helping ease the pain on his back. He only stayed in for five minutes, reaching for a soft red towel the moment he left the water. Wrapping the towel around his waist he walked into his walk-in wardrobe. Standing before his mother’s antique mirror, he stared at it. He could see everything around him. But not himself, not in the mirror. Not even his red towel. He dropped the towel and instantly it had a reflection as it fell to the floor.

”Jay…”

”Sir?” Jarvis replied promptly.

”Can mirrors… stop working?”

”Not strictly sir. However they can break or shatter, impeding their function.”

”That’s not what I- never mind.”

He frowned at his own absence. He was more than a little bit put off by it. Until a thought crossed his mind. This was probably one of Clint’s jokes. He shoved the mirror behind some clothes, and pulled on underwear. He could still see himself in his bathroom mirror, so that was fine. He brushed his teeth, the mint strong in his mouth. He spat, and rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash, before grinning at the mirror. Perfect white teeth glistened back at him.

”Sir, Doctor Banner is approaching your floor.”

”Cool, let him in but warn him that I be naked.”

 

A cautious knock at his door.

”I’m wearing clothes now, I promise.”

A laugh from the other side of the door, “Glad to hear that, since you are joining us for dinner.”

”Dinner? Already?”

He could almost hear the skeptical nod on the other side of the door, “Yeah, and everyone wants you to join us. You gave them all a scare this morning.”

Tony pulled a hoodie over his head, “I noticed you weren’t among my welcoming party,” Tony teased easily.

”If Jarvis had woken me, it definitely wouldn’t have been me greeting you.”

”Jay, you should have woken him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the other guy.”

Bruce laughed, “I’m sure he misses you too, but hurry up and-”

Tony opened the door dramatically, a grand sweep revealing him standing in sweatpants and a hoodie.

”-join us.”

”And here I am, Brucey-bear. What’s a cookin’?”

”No idea, it’s Clint’s turn.”

Tony threw an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, walking them both to the lift. They chatted away, technobable and science-talk a steady stream as the strode into the dining room. Tony wiggled his nose, pulling away from Bruce to rub his nose with the back of his hand. Something smelt… wrong. It was weird. It wasn’t a bad smell. It just wasn’t agreeing with him. He sneezed suddenly, hands jumping to cover his face. Natasha looked up from her book, frowning. She stood and walked up to him, pulling him down so she could rest her forehead on his.

”No fever, you feeling alright Stark?”

”Yeah, fine.”

”You look better than you did this morning. A bit more colour,” she agreed, returning to her seat.

”The wonders of a hot shower,” Tony grinned quickly.

No reason to tell them that his skin was hypersensitive to hot water. He sat down, opposite the window. But the setting sun was making his migraine so much worse. So he moved opposite. And the sun prickled at the back of his neck. It felt like rats crawling and gnawing at his skin. He stood once again, looking forlornly at the seat Natasha was in. The only one that the sun never reached.

”Can I sit there, please?” Tony asked.

Asked was being generous. Begged.

”Still have a hangover?” Natasha didn’t look up from her book.

”I guess.”

Now she looked up, eyes darting over him. He was squinting in the minimal light, and was scratching the back of his neck with vigor that suggested he’d be left with red gouges. She slid from her seat, moving one space to the left. Tony nodded gratefully, dropping into his newly acquired seat. That smell that was bugging him was getting stronger. Clint brought a massive bowl of spaghetti bolognese out from the kitchen, Steve following with the pasta, and Bucky right behind with the garlic bread.

”Figured I’d be nice and make your favourite since you looked like a corpse earlier.”

Tony grinned brightly, “thanks birdbrain.”

”No probs, tin man.”

”Sparrow.”

”Robocop.”

”That’s my nickname,” Bucky interjected, sitting down on Tony’s other side.

He placed several slices of garlic bread on his plate and then some for Tony. The smell was overwhelming. Overpowering. But Steve served him some pasta before sitting next to Bucky. Clint ladled bolognese onto his plate. He had to eat something. He knew that. But in a sec. He needed to get control over his gag reflex. Maybe he was getting the flu. Instead he listened as everyone chatted away.

”So where’s Thor tonight?”

”With Jane, somewhere in Europe I think. It’s their anniversary, and Darcy was telling him all about ‘Midgardian mating rituals’.”

”That… was definitely not a good idea.”

”Nah, probably not. But someone needed to have the talk with him, and I already said ‘not it’.”

Tony pushed his spaghetti around the plate. He hadn’t opened his mouth and Natasha was giving him a strange look. She tapped his leg gently with her own, asking her question silently. Why wasn’t he eating? To answer her, he ate a mouthful of pasta. With no sauce. Maybe that’s why it tasted off. Plain pasta was a bit weird. But this tasted like… like smoke and ash. It tasted like it was crumbling away. He chewed and swallowed anyway. Would have been rude not to, and despite what the general public think, he was raised with manners. His face must have given something away.

”What’s wrong?” she asked softly, hand nudging his, “why aren’t you eating?”

Tony shrugged, picking up another mouthful of pasta, this time coated in bolognese sauce. He shoved it into his mouth and swallowed. This didn’t taste like ash. It tasted much much worse. And the reaction was almost instantaneous. First his mouth began to tingle. Then it burnt. Tony gulped down the glass of orange juice that Steve had kindly poured earlier. He could feel his skin itch, intolerable pain bursting into perception. His hands clawed at his arms, as his breath came in short sharp gasps. Natasha wished she’d noticed sooner, instead of listening to one of Clint’s stories that she’d heard a hundred times over. The sound of a knife being knocked to the floor drew everyone’s attention back to Tony. He was shaking, hardly breathing. When he could breathe it came in sharp whistles as he sucked in sharply. A rash was climbing his neck, his hands clawing at his throat.

”Allergic reaction,” Bruce assessed calmly, as chaos broke out around him.

He pulled an EpiPen from his bag and stabbed it into Tony’s leg. He depressed it and suddenly the gasps for breath eased. Only to give way to something else. Bruce reeled back, falling to the floor as Tony vomited up the two mouthfuls he’d eaten. Tony was shaking, arms wrapped around himself. But Bruce was next to him again, shining a penlight into his eyes.

”Tony-”

Tony nodded sharply, anticipating the question. He tried to focus on the voice, not the millions of insects that seemed to be crawling under his skin.

”What are you allergic to? Do you know?”

”Nothing, been tested, nothing,” Tony answered hastily, hands scratching up and down his arms.

Steve and Bucky grabbed a hand each, restraining him. But Tony easily tugged his hands from their grip, curling himself into his chest.

”Tony, I need you to be honest, have you taken anything?” Bruce asked gently, trying to look at the dilation of Tony’s pupils.

Hard to tell from that alone, as adrenaline flooded Tony’s system. Tony blinked and shook his head.

”No, I like my brain cells, thank you,” he replied haughtily.

”Should we move him somewhere else?” Steve asked, “he’s surrounded by contaminants here.”

Everyone blinked at him in surprise. Well, except for Bucky.

”I used to be allergic to pretty much everything,” Steve shrugged.

Steve carefully picked him up and carried him into the Entertainments room. He placed him gently on the sofa. Everyone gathered around him.

”Full disclaimer,” Tony said into the couch cushion, “I think I have the flu.”

”Tony, that was different to the flu,” Bruce explained gently, hand resting on Tony’s shoulder blade.

He could feel every flex of muscle and shift of breath. And it was better than before, no more heaving gasps or tight wheezes. Just steady, easy breathing. Bruce was almost certain Tony had fallen asleep from the adrenaline come-down.

”You just gonna stand around and stare at me?” Tony asked sullenly, not bothering to move his head, “or can we put a movie on or something?”

Clint dropped down next to Tony, and Natasha next to Clint. Tony curled up to give them more room on the sofa, but Clint picked up Tony’s legs and lay them across his own lap. Natasha pulled off his shoes and began rubbing his feet.

”You’re really cold.”

Tony hummed in acknowledgment, no energy to care. Bucky dragged the blanket off his and Steve’s love seat, tucking it around Tony. Tony hummed again, wrapping his hands up in it. And soon a movie was playing.

 

“Is he asleep?”

”No I’m not.”

”How?” Bucky asked with amazement and apprehension, “You’ve only slept like an hour in three days.”

”Not tired,” Tony shrugged, pulling the blanket around his face and muffling his words.

Clint stared at Tony in fear and confusion, “how is that even possible? You sure you aren’t mutant?”

”Pretty sure, I got tested for that too.”

”Maybe you should try sleeping,” Natasha suggested gently, pinching one of his toes.

Tony grumbled inaudibly but closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the movie wash over him. And… nothing. He couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t anxiety or insomnia keeping him up. He just wasn’t tired. His body was exhausted but not in a way sleep could fix.

”What did you put in that bolognese?” Bruce asked as he took Tony’s pulse.

He frowned at his watch, readjusting his grip. And again.

”Tomatoes, onions, beef, garlic, salt, sugar, and pepper. The pasta was just typical dry store pasta.”

”And the garlic bread?”

”Bread, Parsley, Butter, Garlic,” Clint reeled off, checking off his fingers as he did so.

”Wheat allergy maybe?”

”He ate plain pasta just fine,” Natasha commented.

”Maybe the pepper?”

”It was the garlic,” Tony said.

Everyone had thought he was asleep, talking in hushed voices. Guess they hadn’t needed to.

”How the fuck are you allergic to garlic? You’re Italian!” Clint exclaimed.

”I am aware.”

”Are you sure? How do you know?” Bruce asked, “You said you were tested for allergies.”

”I was. But Clint still smells of garlic and it’s making me feel nauseous.”

Natasha sniffed Clint, “I can’t smell anything.”

”I can. It’s on his hands, and the left side of his jaw.”

Natasha picked up one of Clint’s hands, breathing deeply. And just faintly, she could smell garlic too. But only incredibly faintly. She would never have noticed it if she wasn’t looking for it. And Tony could smell it from under a blanket without moving closer to Clint. Clint lifted Tony’s legs, and slunk away. He came back smelling strongly of lavender soap.

”Better?” he asked, holding his hands out for Tony to inspect.

Tony sniffed apprehensively, but nodded his agreement, hiding back under the blanket. Bruce attempted to take Tony’s pulse again.

”I’m not getting anything,” he looked deeply concerned, taking Tony’s other wrist and trying on that side, “not a single beat. Nat, can you try?”

Natasha reached under the blanket and tried to locate Tony’s pulse point on his neck. But she couldn’t. Maybe she just hadn’t found the right spot. She pulled the blanket away, revealing a reluctant Tony. But he tilted his neck up for her. Her fingers were in the right spot, just under his jaw. But like the Doctor she felt nothing. Not a single beat.

”Tony, what’s my name?”

”Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”

”And where was I born?”

”Russia, I think. Not entirely sure. Your accent changes a lot.”

”And what’s my favourite colour?”

”Fuck me if I know.”

Clint leaned down, and whispered in Tony’s ear.

”The bird says it’s a tie between Red and Purple.”

”Well he’s not dead,” Natasha concluded, as she continued to try and locate Tony’s pulse.

”Was that up for debate?” Clint asked with a smirk.

”I am dead,” Tony replied deadpan, “dead serious about getting a better doctor.”

Bruce shook his head in exasperation, ”I keep telling you I’m not that kind of Doctor. But do you listen?”

”Sorry, what did you say?” Tony chuckled.

Natasha smacked him round the head, “be nice to Bruce. He has the worst patient in the world.”

”Sorry Brucie-bear,” Tony apologised meekly, head buried into a couch cushion.

He stood suddenly, glancing at the ceiling.

”I gotta go,” he announced.

 

“Jay, add to the list of symptoms. Sudden Allergies, garlic specifically for me. Weak or absent pulse. Insomnia.”

”Anything else, sir.”

”I’ll let you know. Should I give another blood sample?”

”It would be beneficial sir, however there is no need to until tomorrow morning.”

”I’ll give another blood sample.”

 

And so he was down in his lab, another pint of blood drained from him. He stretched across his desk, feeling spread thin. He really wasn’t feeling well. This was one hell of a virus.

”Sir, it might be worth considering alternate possibilities.”

”Such as?” Tony asked, twirling his hand in the air to emphasise his point.

”Extra-terrestrial, supernatural, and the like.”

”Please, this is just advanced flu.”

”Sir, you have an unfortunate habit of underplaying your illnesses. For example, with the palladium poisoning-”

”Oh my god, that was one time, you really need to let that go.”

”Indeed sir, I will let it go when it stops being pertinent to your self-destructive tendencies.”

”Did I upgrade your sass? I thought it was your sensors, but I’m pretty sure I must have turned up the sass.”

”My sass remains at satisfactory levels.”

”Satisfactory for who?”

”That has yet to be decided sir.”

Tony was about to retort but then he smelled something. Something delicious. He followed his nose to the kitchen, every trace of garlic washed and wiped away. Natasha was sat on the counter top, slicing a slab of meat into thin pieces. She looked up at his approach, spearing a piece with a knife and offering him it. He took it without hesitation. Her eyebrows raised, and she watched him with curiosity as he ate it.

”Didn’t think you’d actually eat it.”

Tony quirked his eyebrows, chewing, savouring what he’d been given.

”That’s Salo. Raw meat.”

”Tastes good though,” Tony said once he’d swallowed.

It didn’t taste like ash and soot. It didn’t burn and blister the inside of his mouth. It was actually rather pleasant.

”Last time you tried some, you chewed three times before spitting it into the bin and swearing off all raw meats forever.”

Tony shrugged, trying to sneak another piece. Natasha’s sharp eyes caught him but she didn’t make a move. He hadn’t really eaten today. She offered him a third piece.

”Have you ever tried Mett? German delicacy made of pork.”

Tony shook his head as he picked up a fourth piece. Natasha cut a few more slices before impaling the chopping board with her knife. It quivered. Once upon a time it used to make him jump. Now, he was used to it. Natasha walked over to the fridge and pulled out a sausage shaped package wrapped in plastic.

”Mett,” she stated, “typically seasoned with salt and pepper. This one has no garlic which is good.”

She tugged the knife free and slammed it onto the cylindrical package. It split and Tony was overwhelmed by the scent. It smelled better than the Salo. She offered him half, which he devoured. He looked longingly at the other half. She handed it over with a small grin. At least Tony was eating something. He began picking at the Salo. Natasha struck the chopping board with her knife again, before sauntering back to her bedroom. Not Clint’s, Tony noted. She still hadn’t said anything. He twisted his mouth, disappointed.

 

Back to the lab, and now that he had eaten _something_ he was feeling much better. Maybe he could actually fight this virus.


	3. Unusual Cravings

“Okay, add heightened sense of smell, taste, and hearing.”

”Added, but still no matching results.”

”Are you searching all public access medical records?”

”Naturally, sir.”

”And Private Clinics?”

”Of course, sir.”

”International?”

If a computer program could roll its eyes, Tony was certain Jarvis would be doing that right now. But instead he heard the wiring of the server fans as Jarvis powered up his irritation.

”Sir, I have searched every database worldwide, both public and private. I have found no matching results for your symptoms.”

The fans quietened. But Tony shouldn’t be able to hear them at all. They were in the server room, which was several floors down and sound proofed. He could smell Clint’s cologne from three floors away and he could almost taste the curry Bruce was cooking, despite the fact he wasn’t even near the kitchen. It all felt so overwhelming. He could hear the sound of his nails scratching his skin. He could hear every breath he took. There was no escaping from the sounds, the constant noise. Someone knocked on his workshop door, jarring him back into reality. Steve waved on the other side of the glass.

”Jay, hide everything. And let Steve in.”

The door slid open, Steve grinning at Tony.

”I like your new shampoo,” Tony commented idly, as he shut off monitors and powered down his computers.

”Thanks,” Steve turned red, brushing his hair through with his fingers, “Bucky bought it for me.”

”Good taste, smells like strawberries.”

Steve frowned for a moment, “Can you smell it? Is it too strong?”

”Nah,” Tony shrugged with fake nonchalance. He really needed to think before he speaks, “just right.”

Steve was blushing again. Tony thought it was cute, that Steve was blushing over Bucky when he wasn’t even around.

”Are you feeling better?”

Tony wasn’t sure, “yeah, much thanks.”

”Good, that’s good.”

Steve stood awkwardly in the doorway, teetering on the edge of saying something else.

”Can I do somethin’ for ya, Cap’n?”

”I was wondering if you’d spar with me.”

Tony shrugged. Sure, what’s the worst that could happen?

 

So he was standing in a boxing ring, facing off Steve. And he was able to keep up, which amazed them both. Tony was ducking and dodging nearly every hit, and landing more hits than normal of his own. He blocked with an elbow dodge, ducking under Steve’s right hook. He hooked his leg under Steve’s, but Steve jumped to avoid. Tony tackled him to the ground, but Steve easily flipped them both over. He pinned Tony down with a cocky smirk.

”Psst,” Tony hissed, grinning like he had a secret.

Steve leaned down, smiling gently. Tony headbutted him, Steve tumbling off him. Tony climbed quickly to his feet. But then he could smell something. Something sweet and delicious filling his senses. It had just the right balance between aromatic and sharp. He wanted it. He turned on the spot, looking desperately for the source. Steve was dabbing at his eyebrow with his fingers, frowning as they came away bloody. Tony stared open mouthed. The red dripped down the side of Steve’s face and Tony wanted to… he wanted to lick it off. He stumbled forward, hand outstretched for the cut on Steve’s head.

”Hey, Tony, it’s nothing, it’ll be healed in five minutes.”

Tony blinked, pulling his eyes away from the delectable looking blood, and looking at Steve’s eyes. He blinked again. Shit! SHIT! He hurt Steve. And the moment he realised he hurt Steve, the apologies came pouring out. He wiped the blood away with his hand, inspecting the wound. Shallow, more of a scrape than a cut. Steve was right, Tony could already see it healing before his eyes. But the blood was on his hands now.

”Sorry, sorry, I gotta go.”

Tony rushed off, leaving Steve speechless in his wake.

 

“Jay, total lock-down. No one in or out. At all. Shut off the vents too, I can’t risk Clint getting in either.”

”Sir?”

”Just do it. _Please _.__ ”

Lock-down began, thick metal shutters sealing Tony into his workshop. His hand was twitching, the smell of the blood so tempting.

”Shut off all cameras and sensors within this room, except for voice recognition audio.”

”Of course sir, powering down now.”

Silence. Blissful silence. Tony took a cautious sniff of his hand, Steve’s blood making his fingers sticky. He poked his tongue out, the tip just about touching his fingertip. But the flood gates opened. The taste was euphoric. He sucked every drop of blood he could of his hands, using his sense of smell to find every trace. He had sunk to the floor in his bid to devour his own hand. He shivered now, the high of tasting blood fading fast. It wasn’t enough. He wanted- no- he needed more. He was so hungry.

”Jay, I think I’m in trouble.”

”How so, sir?”

”I think this is more than just a virus.”

 

He’d been avoiding Steve. Obviously. Licking a man’s blood of your hands wasn’t normal behaviour. So he decided to avoid Steve at all costs. But the man wasn’t making it easy. He would turn up at the workshop unexpectedly. He’d drop by Tony’s apartment unannounced. And soon Bucky was trying to pin him down too. It was three in the morning and Tony was eating his way through all of Natasha’s Salo. He was struggling to eat anything other than raw meat and steak cooked so rare it might as well still be mooing. It didn’t matter, she actively encouraged him to eat it- eat anything. So he was sitting on the counter, part of a special three person club of people allowed to eat Natasha’s food. The other two people were Nat herself and Clint, obviously. The room was pitch black, but somehow Tony could still see. Tony asked Jarvis to note enhanced night vision as another symptom. So Bucky didn’t actually see him when he walked in. And Tony froze completely, not wanting to be spotted. But Bucky stumbled about the kitchen, not turning on the light. He reached up, leaning over Tony, to reach a mug. And Tony thought Bucky smelled divine. He could hear Bucky’s heartbeat and all he had to do was lean over and bite- shit, no. He should not bite Bucky. That would be… that’s probably bad. But he needed to- no. No he didn’t need to bite Bucky. He didn’t need to taste that gorgeous, warm, silky, delicious blood. And Bucky smelled so good. But Bucky was moving away, completely unaware that he had company in the kitchen. He fumbled about with the stove, trying to find the buttons for the stove top. Giving up, he set his mug on the counter and flicked on the lights. He was a short stop from screaming, seeing Tony looming over him from the counter top.

”Shit, Tony. You scared the life out of me.”

”You smell nice,” Tony hummed, leaning closer.

”Okaaaay,” Bucky answered uncertainly, drawing out the sound.

He didn’t quite know what to do with that information. But Tony was smiling softly and leaning closer.

”Do you want tea?” Bucky asked nervously, Tony was really close, “I’m making tea.”

Tony nodded, but Bucky could tell he wasn’t listening at all.

”Are you avoiding Steve?”

Tony nodded, swaying on his feet. Bucky smelled heady, he felt drunk just from being so close. He just wanted a little taste. There was nothing wrong with that.

”Why?”

Tony blinked, snapping out of his stupor. There were so many things wrong with biting Bucky. So many things. Tony’s hand jumped to his mouth, the action feeling more instinctive than it should have.

”He- I- nothing- I have to go.”

Tony turned tail and ran.

 

He curled up under his bed. He slept there now, the sun never quite reaching him when morning came. Even when Jarvis blacked out the windows, light still crept through. And sunlight always seemed to give him a really bad sunburn. So he was hiding under his bed like a kid. And someone was knocking on his door. After several attempts Tony heard the door creak open.

”Jarvis said he hadn’t left his floor, but he’d removed his sensory cuffs. Here’s the only place left to search.”

”Should we really be doing this? He clearly wants his privacy. And he’s been acting strange.”

”Exactly, and I want to know why.”

”Buck, there were times you needed your privacy.”

Silence. Tense and uncomfortable. Tony could hear every breath, every heartbeat. And it was making him so hungry. He didn’t know why there was a correlation but he was starving. He watched Bucky’s combat boots walk over to his wardrobe, opening the doors wide.

”I know, okay. But sometimes people don’t act like themselves, and sometimes its a sign of much worse things,” Bucky hissed back.

”Okay,” Steve agreed, “we’ll keep looking.”

”Tony, you in here?” Bucky called into the wardrobe before striding in.

“Careful, he could be having an episode.”

Tony tucked into himself more. Episode was a nice way of saying a panic attack or suffering PTSD driven delusions. And he had been okay for a while. It was mostly nightmares. And he didn’t really sleep much lately so that was fine. Steve knocked cautiously on the bathroom door, opening it hesitantly. Tony listened as Steve’s sneakers squeaked on the tiled floor.

”This room’s clear.”

”Walk-in too.”

Their smell was filling up the room. And he was having a hard time holding himself back. He could feel his mouth curl into a snarl, his nails digging into the carpet.

”How about under the bed?”

”Would he fit?”

”Probably not.”

”Should we check the workshop again?”

”Yeah,” Bucky agreed, tapping his boots in irritation, “maybe he sneaked back in.”

Tony watched their feet recede, waiting until his bedroom door to close before he let himself breathe again.

”Jay, lock down my bedroom and bathroom. I need to… vent.”

 

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked, turning to Bucky.

They had just reached the elevator in Tony’s apartment when they heard it. Glass smashing, wood snapping, pounding on metal.

”Yep,” Bucky turned on his heel.

They ran back to Tony bedroom, and tried to open the door.

”I’m sorry, Sir has requested a lock down of his bedroom.”

”Why? Is he okay?”

”He is… currently active.”

Steve sighed, “let us in Jarvis.”

”I can’t do that Captain.”

”Jarvis, let us in,” Bucky demanded, “we need to help him.”

”I’m afraid sir has the room in lock- exiting lock down mode, please be patient.”

They heard the sounds of metal shutters rising, and dead bolts coming undone.

”I would advise caution.”

”Thanks Jarvis.”

Steve opened the door slowly, peering round with Bucky at his back. Chaos. That was the first thing they both noticed. The bed was cracked in half, the wood splintered on each end. The mattress was shredded, springs poking out. The walls had claw marks scratched into the paint. The pillows were torn apart, feathers strewn across the room. Bucky picked up the pillow case, examining it closely.

”Steve, are those teeth marks?”

Steve nodded, moving around the room cautiously. A lamp had been shoved roughly to the floor, the glass base covered in a spiderweb of cracks. The desk chair was bent out of shape, and the desk had teeth marks around the edge. And a huge chunk bitten out of it, the missing piece laying on the other side of the room. Bucky pulled away the bed covers, trying to see if Tony was hidden among them. Nothing and no one.

”Jarvis… what happened here?”

”Sir needed to vent.”

”And where is he now?” Steve asked, staring up at the ceiling.

”Uncertain Captain, but the shower is running. I can only assume he is clothed as there are no clothes on the bathroom floor.”

Bucky rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door, “Tony, you in there? You decent?”

No response. Bucky tried the door handle. It was unlocked. He eased the door open, the sound of running water pouring out.

Bucky turned to Steve, “PTSD,” he mouthed, “Tony, I’m coming in,” he called into the room.

 

If the bedroom was bad, the bathroom was worse. It was dark, only a few lights around the mirror giving them light. And the mirror was broken. Circle fractures littering it, with shards of glass spilling across the floor. A bar of soap was been split in half, and towels were shredded into ribbons. Toiletries littered the floor, contents of the bottles poured out. Steve slipped as he walked, Bucky throwing a steadying arm around him. The room smelled overpoweringly of citronella, but there was something under that. Blood. Steve turned, hearing glass crunch under his heel. He followed the glittering glass trail with his eyes, being led to the shower stall. The shower guard had shattered completely, the shower sending cascades of water onto the floor. Tony was hunched up into the corner of the shower, watching them with wide eyes. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised and he was biting hard on his hand, a thin stream of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Steve stepped forward, offering his hand out for Tony. But Tony shied away, pressing himself more against the tiles.

”Hey,” Steve greeted softly, “hey, you’re okay. It’s just me, it’s Steve. If you can hear me, nod.”

Tony nodded once sharply, but did not remove his hand from his mouth. If anything, he clenched his jaw, biting harder.

”Are you with us?” Bucky asked, crouching down in front of him.

He watched Tony’s eyes track him, caught the slight twitch of the nose. He saw the dilation of the pupils as Tony stared at him. Tony nodded succinctly.

”Wanna come out of there?” Steve asked kindly, still offering his hand out.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his hand, to his neck, his lips, searching over his face. Steve tried to keep his expression open and readable. But Tony’s eyes darted to Bucky, following the same pattern. Hands, neck, lips. Tony shook his head.

”Why not, Doll?”

Tony’s mouth moved, just slightly. He almost opened his mouth before thinking better of it. He clenched down again, more blood trailing out of his mouth. Steve reached for his hand, trying to stop Tony hurting himself. Tony pulled away, eyes frantic as he watched Steve move closer. Steve leaned under the spray.

”Fuck! That’s cold!” he exclaimed, teeth immediately chattering.

Tony blinked at him, hand slowly coming away from his mouth. Bucky inhaled sharply at the sight. Tony had bitten himself raw, the skin taut and bruised. Teeth marks circled in geometric patterns. There were two circular puncture wounds, blood dripping sluggishly out. He extended his hand out, fingertips almost but not quite in the shower’s spray. Then he breathed deeply and shoved his entire hand under the water. He screeched. The hand looked burnt, a dark and vicious red, blistering instantly. Tony whimpered, cradling his hand to his chest, rocking slightly. Steve shut off the water, Bucky taking and examining his hand. He curled his fingers around Tony’s wrist, lifting the hand into his vision. Tony’s whole body was flinching, leaning forward before pulling himself back.

”I have no idea what happened,” Steve sounded completely astounded, “the water was cold.” 

”Another allergy maybe,” Bucky suggested, “we should get Bruce.”

Tony slumped forward, face pressed into the crook of Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

”You smell _so_ good.”

He licked a stripe up Bucky’s neck. He smelt so good, and Tony was _so_ hungry. And Bucky was so close and he could feel his pulse and Bucky was just so _alive _.__  He licked him again, desperate to taste something. And he hadn’t noticed Bucky tensing next to him.

”Stevie buddy,” Bucky started, using that tone that Steve recognised.

Recognised as something was wrong but Bucky didn’t quite know what or why.

”Stevie, he’s licking me.”

”What?” Steve asked tonelessly.

He couldn’t quite believe what Bucky was saying. He eased Tony away, and sure enough there was a line of saliva down Bucky’s neck. Tony turned to Steve, sniffing hungrily.

”Uh, Tony, are you okay? Did you take anything?”

Tony didn’t answer, staring at Steve with… Steve could only label it as lust. But not sexual lust.

“His pupils are dilated, he’s acting strange. Jarvis, call Bruce now.”

”He’s on his way.”

Tony pressed himself against Steve, licking up Steve’s neck. All he had to do was bite down and he’d finally get to eat something. He needed to. He was so _hungry_. His teeth were resting just over Steve’s pulse. Just bite down. It will feel so good. But he would have to bite, to  _hurt _,__ Steve. He shoved himself off, tumbling back against the wall, scrambling to his feet. His eyes darted wildly. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t think about anything important. Instead Hunger was screaming at him, begging him to just bite down, just a taste, all he needed was a taste and he’d be fine. He just needed a little taste. Bucky was pinning him against the wall, feeling his forehead.

”Steve, he’s ice cold. Where the fuck is Bruce?”

”He is approaching the floor now, with Thor in tow.”

Tony leaned in, he was inches away, so close, almost. He could hear Bucky’s heartbeat, it was so close, it was pressed against him.

”Steve, I’m not getting a pulse.”

A hand was on his forehead, and he could almost taste that iron-y warmth in his mouth. He shoved forward, tackling Bucky to the floor. Steve made to grab him, but Tony easily shoved him away with one hand, the other pinning Bucky down with a hand on his chest.

”I just- I’m just so hungry.”

He was so close, teeth pressing into Bucky’s neck. He just had to bite down and he’d-. What the fuck is he doing? Steve grabbed him and pulled him off, trying desperately to pin his arms behind his head. But Tony ducked, flipped Steve over his back and ran.

 

He darted past a confused Bruce and a befuddled Thor as he ran. He had no idea where he was going, he just needed to get away.

”Sir, might I recommend the Hulk Cage?”

”You are a genius,” Tony gasped out, jumping down a flight of stairs and rolling into his landing.

He kept heading down, down into the basement, where the prototype of the new Hulk cage lay. Bruce, on bad nights, would sometimes go down there to let off some steam. Tony never thought he’d need to use it. But things happen. Even if he didn’t quite know what was happening to him. The door slid shut behind him, all the locks sliding into place with it. Like the original Hulk Cage, the room was circular. Only now it was also furnished. A bed in the middle of the space, a table with a couple of chairs to the left of the door. A few shelves dotted the walls, scientific journals and sci-fi books haphazardly stacked along them. He grabbed all of them and carried them to the bed.

”Jay, flood the floor,” Tony ordered, clambering onto the bed, “about half a foot. Don’t let the water touch the mattress or bed covers please.”

”Sir?”

”Please Jay,” Tony begged, running his hands down his face as he tried figure out what the hell just happened, “and black out the windows. I don’t want to see anything. And monitor airflow, no foreign contaminants. I don’t want to… smell anything.”

”Of course, sir, but may I enquire as to why?”

”Not yet, I’m still figuring out the what and why’s myself.”

After that he fell silent, lying on the bed with his arm over his eyes. What the hell had actually happened? He wanted to _eat_ Bucky and Steve. Not just them but Thor too. Banner smelt off, wrong somehow. Not eat, drink. He wanted their blood. He craved it.

”Jay,” Tony called into the silence, propping himself up on his elbows, “I think it’s time we started considering supernatural and alien options.”

”Of course, sir. The most likely cause of your sudden changes seems to be related to Vampirism.”

”Huh,” was all Tony could manage.

It made sense. If he believed in the supernatural. Which he didn’t. Not really. But he wanted to drink his friends, which seemed pretty unbelievable. He flicked idly through an issue of ScienceMag, not bothering to read anything. Instead he was counting the number of pages, the number of words on each page. Just to fill in the time.

”What are the symptoms of being a vampire?” Tony asked his sentient computer.

”In folklore, it is believed that a Vampire, or Vampiric person will suffer from an aversion to light, untainted water - especially bodies of water and running water - , garlic, crucifixes and other religious artifacts. It is also believed they won’t cast a shadow, and have no reflections. Some suggest vampires suffer arithmomania-”

”Like the Count from Sesame Street?”

”Precisely. It is also believed that Vampires have superior strength to Humans, and have some ability to shapeshift.”

Tony thought for a moment. Aversion to light. Check. Pure water. Maybe. But running water, definitely. Garlic. Undoubtedly. Crucifixes. He had no idea. He definitely cast a shadow, he could see it now. And he had a reflection. Oh… wait, no. His mother’s old mirror wouldn’t show him.

”Jay, back on the mirror thing. Can some mirrors show vampires and some not?”

”Honestly sir, this is entirely hypothetical as nothing has been proven. However some theories suggest that old silver-backed mirrors would not show a vampire due to the silver’s purifying properties, whereas newer, aluminium backed mirrors may.”

”My mother’s mirror-”

”Is backed with silver, sir.”

So Clint wasn’t playing a joke on him. Huh.

”How do you kill a vampire?” Tony asked curiously.

”I don’t feel comfortable giving you that information, sir.”

”Christ,” and the word burnt on his tongue as he ran an irritated hand through his hair, “I’m not gonna- I just want to know how I should protect myself.”

Silence. Tony was certain that Jarvis was thinking about it.

”Very well, sir. The two most noted causes for a vampire’s demise are sunlight, and a stake to the heart.”

”Well a stake to the heart would kill anyone, that doesn’t prove anything.”

”Indeed, sir.”

”But the sunlight thing?”

”I have no further data available on the specifics of death by sunlight exposure.”

”What about oxygen deprivation? Electrocution? Blood loss? Torture? Starvation? Dehydration?”

”Starvation is also linked to death, but unfortunately I have no accurate data.”

”Hmm, okay. Let’s test something. Jarvis, decrease oxygen saturation in the room at 10% intervals for the next ten minutes. If I show distress, please increase it again.”

”Sir, I really don’t think-”

”I just wanna try.”

Jarvis gave him an angry beep, but obliged his master. Tony sat for half an hour, reading peacefully. After forty minutes he called out to Jarvis.

”Hey, we doing this or what?”

”Sir,” Jarvis sounded confused, “oxygen has been at 0% for thirty minutes. Were you unaffected?”

Tony nodded, pointless since Jarvis couldn’t track his movement, “Yeah, didn’t notice a thing. Well, how about that?”

He didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Did this prove he was a vampire? One test wasn’t enough proof, the scientific side of him argued. He should repeat the experiment, test the other symptoms. He should buy a load of mirrors.

”Sir, the Avengers asked about your whereabouts.”

”Did you-”

”I told them, sir.”

”Dammit Jarvis.”

Right on cue, someone began pounding on the door.

”Open up, asshole, and tell us what’s going on.”

”Fuck off Clint,” Tony yelled back, “don’t let them in,” he ordered Jarvis.

”Of course not, sir, however Natasha is currently entering her override codes.”

”WHAT?! WHY DID I GIVE HER OVERRIDE CODES?!”

”You felt it suitable at the time sir.”

”Well my past self can go fuck himself.”

”I’ll make a note of that sir.”

”You can go-”

He heard the door hiss, the seals releasing.

”Jarvis, do not open that door.”

He could already smell them, hear their every movement. Jarvis drained away the water as the door slid open. Natasha was the first to step inside. She smelt strong, sharp. Almost citrus in her aroma. She smelt sharp and refined, with a subtle undertone of compassion. She walked in confidently, boots stomping through puddles. She was talking but he couldn’t hear a word. Every instinct in him was screaming ‘bite her’. Then Clint walked in, and everything became about him. His blood was different, sweeter and warmer. He smelt like… he smelt like homemade cake fresh from the oven. He smelt safe and warm and comforting. Clint stepped in front of Nat, watching Tony carefully. He must be doing something to warrant such a cold look, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to sink his teeth into someone, anyone. Doctor Banner walked in and all hunger died. Tony gagged. Banner smelt like burnt rubber, sharp and acrid. Tony pulled away, eyes turning back to Clint. He just wanted one little bite, surely that would be okay. He was so hungry, they were basically starving him. Everyone’s eyes turned to the ceiling for a moment, before staring at Tony in shock. He didn’t care. He whined pathetically, pulling himself low down on the bed. But then Thor entered. Thor was… Thor was a feast. He smelt like carved meats and grandeur and- and power. He smelt like royalty and he smelt like divinity. Steve and Bucky walked in soon after, watching Tony with a certain, probably warranted, amount of apprehension. But their smell blended together. They were blueberry pie. Light fluffy sweet pastry with sharp tart blueberries. They worked in sync and would be oh so delicious if Tony could just. Have. A. TASTE. Who was closest? Clint. He leaped, knocking Clint off his feet.

”HOLY SHIT, HE HAS FANGS!”

He was so close, so close to biting down, ripping Clint’s throat out, for blood, he needed blood. But arms were around him, three people holding him off, holding him back. Clint stood up and brushed himself off, as Thor, Steve, and Bucky slammed Tony back into a wall. Clint approached slowly, a knife clenched in his right hand. Tony struggled desperately, snapping his head back and forth, slamming it back into the wall. They all kept out of his mouth’s reach, his jaws biting down on air. Clint approached slowly, knife held aloft.

”Careful,” Natasha warned.

”It’s okay,” he looked her in the eyes, conveying his meaning in a moment.

Natasha gave him a mulish look but moved out of his way as he stepped closer. Clint slid the blade across his palm, wincing slightly at the pain. Natasha smirked a little at that. This from the man who had taken a bullet wound to the stomach and kept fighting, the man who fell off several buildings and somehow was still here to tell the tale. But he was wincing over a cut no worse than a paper cut. But the effect was immediate. Tony stilled, hanging limply in the hold of many arms. He eyes watched blood bead and eventually pool in Clint’s palm.

”It’s okay,” Clint said softly, moving closer. His tone was soft and gentle, like he was facing a spooked horse instead of his slightly insane friend who looked ready to rip him to shreds, “it’s okay Tony,”

Clint managed to run his not-bleeding hand through Tony’s hair, basically stroking him, “You must be so hungry. You haven’t had anything to eat in a while. So go on, it’s okay.”

Tony sniffed cautiously, straining against the arms holding him. Clint moved closer, letting Tony lick the trail of blood that was running down his palm.

”Not gonna lie, that feels really weird,” Clint grinned at Tony.

But Tony was sagging back, murmuring something unintelligible. Slowly, what sounded like one long noise became individual words.

”Monster, I’m a monster, I- I- Fuck,” Tony wrapped his arms around himself, sinking to the floor, “I’m so hungry.”

”Tony, you can have my blood.”

An empty laugh ripped from Tony’s throat, before dead eyes looked up at Clint, “I will kill you. I will leave you as a husk.”

But he blinked and pulled away, rocking himself back and forward.

”I didn’t mean that, I don’t want that.”

But Clint had stepped back, looking mildly alarmed. Steve eased the knife from Clint, wiping it on his sleeve before cutting a small scratch onto his forearm.

”Eat. Or drink? I don’t really know, but you need to.”

Tony shook his head, clasping it in his hands, “No, no, no.”

”For fuck’s sake,” Bucky grabbed the knife, not bothering to clean it, cutting himself as well, and shoving his arm into Tony’s mouth.

Tony bit down hard. He could taste how Bucky felt. That couldn’t be real. But he could still taste it. Agitation trying to mask fear, deep concern, and something Tony couldn’t quite gauge. Like strong affection. Made sense, Steve had tried to do something reckless and Bucky was fond of Steve. After half a minute, Bucky pulled his arm away.

”Enough, I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

Tony gasped, red dripping down his face. He must look grotesque. He hated himself, loathed himself. He was a monster. But he needed more blood.

”Still hungry?” Steve asked.

Tony refused to look up. Steve offered his arm without another word. Tony lapped at the blood dripping down Steve’s forearm. And now he could taste worry and relief warring with each other. And there it was again, that strong affection. And that flavour seemed to pair brilliantly with the metal hand in his hair, and Steve’s hand resting carefully on his thigh.

”It would appear I’m late,” a woman called from the doorway.


	4. Exposition, Anyone?

“Audrey,” Tony greeted with a wide grin, “how ya doing?”

Audrey swept in, carefully moving around puddles of water as she approached. No one else moved. Tony recognised her, and was obviously happy to see her. Probably not a threat but they all raised their guard.

”You aren’t going to hurt him,” Natasha demanded.

Audrey was next to Natasha in the time between heartbeats, one moment across the room, the next with her fingernails under Natasha’s jaw.

”Of course not, he’d taste terrible. You, on the other hand, would be my ambrosia.”

She dropped her hand, smiling politely, like she was just making idle chit-chat. Audrey knelt down in front of Tony, clutching his chin in her hand.

”Dammit,” she cursed, releasing him with annoyance, “too late. Should have checked in sooner.”

”Umm, hi,” Clint greeted with confusion, “too late for what sorry?”

The woman leveled a glare at him before turning back to Tony, “do you remember who did it?”

Tony blinked doeishly at her before his face split into a wide smile. Then he prodded Bucky’s metal arm with a giggle. Audrey sighed, pulling her hair back into a short ponytail. She swiped the blood away from his mouth, hand staying for a moment at first contact.

”I suppose you have questions,” she pondered to the group, while still assessing Tony.

He seemed fine but with… the changes though there was no real way to be certain. Clint raised his hand.

”Yeah hi, Clint here from ‘What the Fuck?!’ Magazine. Two questions. What the fuck?! and Who the fuck are you?!”

”My name is Audrey De’Sang, and I am the leader of a certain organisation. This organisation deals with powerful and like minded individuals who are hand selected to join us. I approached Mr Stark a few weeks ago in the hope of recruiting him. He decline initially but agreed to consider it. And as I’m sure you are aware by now, based on the bite marks I can see, that Mr Stark is a vampire.”

”How did you get in here?” Natasha asked coolly, moving to stand in between Tony and Audrey.

”As I said, my organisation deals with powerful individuals, many of which have certain abilities. I have the ability to shape shift. It makes getting into places a lot easier.”

”Jarvis, did you get her on the sensors?”

”No, Captain.”

Then it clicked with all of them. She was just like Tony.

”Did you do this to our man of iron?” Thor asked, folding his arms in front of him.

”No, but I offered him the chance which he declined. Though I believe I know who may have done it. Or at least who they are working for.”

”Well do share,” Bucky added bitingly.

She glanced down at Tony, who was humming happily with his head in Steve’s lap. He was holding onto Bucky’s hand and tapping his fingernails on it, seemingly content with the noises the metal made.

“My organisation is in direct opposition to the beliefs of another group. _The Black Moon Guild_ ,” she openly sneered around the name.

”And what’s your organisation called?”

”The Order of the Blood Kin,” she stated proudly.

”Just as cheesy,” Bucky scoffed, lacing his metal fingers with Tony’s, “and neither organisation is taking him.”

”I don’t want to _take_ him,” she sounded offended, “I offered him the choice, he refused, we left it at that. But the Guild is not so big on choice.”

”Dink, dink, dink,” Tony muttered, imitating the sound of his nails on the back of Bucky’s hand.

”Is he okay?” Steve asked, cradling Tony’s head in his lap.

”It depends, when was the last time he ate?” she stopped for a moment before smiling, “I mean drank blood. We don’t eat in the same way your kind does.”

Everyone exchanged looks. They didn’t know.

“We haven’t seen him ‘eat’ anything at all recently. Only today.”

Audrey whistled low, “and when was he turned?”

More looks were swapped. How were they supposed to know?

Audrey sighed irritably, “okay, so there would have been a short time, no more than 24 hours, and usually considerably less, in which he looked dead. And I mean dead. Grey skin, very particular bruising patterns, blue hands and feet. Sound familiar?”

All of them nodded.

”Good, when was this?”

”The morning after his gala,” Natasha said softly, “around three weeks ago.”

Surprise flittered across Audrey’s face, “he hadn’t eaten for three weeks?”

And suddenly that sounded really bad. It sounded like Tony had been in danger.

”That’s not good, that’s really not good. No wonder he’s loopy.”

”Can you please explain what you are on about?”

Audrey rolled her eyes but elaborated, “New Bloods - meaning a recently turned vampire - need more blood than the average vampire. Ideally they need to drink about three pints of blood a week, for their first month. But Mr Stark has essentially been starving himself, New Bloods tend to.”

”Why?”

She raised her eyebrows at Bruce, “surely you can guess? Would you like to crave the blood of everyone around you? Most New Bloods are repulsed by what they are, or what they want.”

Bruce shook his head, “but surely instincts would kick in?”

She nodded, smiling, “yeah, usually by the end of the first week. I’m surprise he lasted so long.”

Steve brushed a hand through Tony’s hair. Tony must have been hungry, feeling terrible. And feeling like that all alone. Always trying to deal with things alone. Steve twisted his mouth into a grimace, still finger-combing Tony’s hair.

”Hmm, that’s nice,” Tony hummed low, wiggling a little to look up at Steve.

He looked at Steve like he was the world and he gripped at Bucky’s hand like he had managed to grasp the stars.

“How long would he have survived without food?” Bruce asked.

Everyone could tell he was making mental notes, so he could adjust his doctor’s notes for Tony.

”Hard to say,” she admitted begrudgingly, “differs from person to- I mean- from Vampire to Vampire. I’d say he needs to be fed no less than once a month.”

”Should we set up rotations?” Natasha asked, “a schedule?”

”Nah,” Bucky smiled, “I’ve got this.”

Steve punched his arm lightly, “you mean ‘we’ve got this’. I’m helping too.”

Audrey scoffed under breath, standing gracefully, “Tell Tony that I’ll be in touch. I have to go, the sun is coming up soon.”

”Before you go, why is Tony… acting like this?” Bruce asked, as Tony giggled while booping Steve on the nose.

”He’s been starving and has just eaten. Think of it this way. When you are deprived of oxygen for… how long can you people hold your breath for?”

”Average, about two minutes.”

”Okay, so say you’ve been made to hold your breath for two minutes, push to the edge of your capabilities, you are just about alive, and suddenly you can breathe again, you get a rush. Similar but longer lasting for vampires. He’ll be fine.”

And with that she left. The door slid closed behind her. They all sat in silence for a while. Eventually, without a word between them, they closed ranks and decided to take Tony back to the group floor.

 

They didn’t like the silence. It wasn’t calm or peaceful. But it wasn’t tense. It was just heavy, words that needed to be said, decisions made, actions taken. But they needed Tony to be with them to do any of it. So they lay him down on the sofa, as if it was a standard movie night, Clint putting on Twilight to everyone’s chagrin. Although it was soon turned off when they realised that Tony - still high as a kite - was sobbing. Steve eventually managed to get him to explain what was wrong. The answer?

”I DON’T WANT TO GLITTER,” Tony wailed at the top of his lungs.

Clint burst out laughing, raucous and loud until Natasha smacked him in the chest. Bucky pulled Tony into his lap, holding Tony around the waist. He leaned round to speak softly in his ear.

”Tony, the only things around here that glitter are Steve after a workout-”

Tony hummed appreciatively at the thought.

”-my arm in the rain-”

Another happy noise, though closer to a satisfied groan.

”-and Clint after Natasha and I have our revenge for making us watch Twilight-”

Tony snorted with laughter, turning so he could bury his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck, nose nuzzling along the join between flesh and metal.

”-I promise you won’t glitter.”

Tony nodded, leaning backwards and looking at Steve upside down.

”Do you promise too?”

And there was such innocence to it, like if Steve and Bucky both promised something, no force on earth could make them break that promise. And maybe that was true, but only if they promised that something to Tony. Steve nodded, and Tony flopped backward, closing his eyes. Clint put on Howl’s Moving Castle instead and they all let the noise wash over them. For another five minutes.

 

Tony bolted upright, scrambling away from everyone. He ran to the other side of the room, skidding and crashing into the wall. Everyone winced, standing with hands reaching out, ready to offer help if needed. Tony spun to look at them, pulling himself out of the dent he left in the wall. Hunched shoulders. Head ducked. Nails digging into his arms. He looked ashamed, guilty. Steve and Bucky stepped closer, smiling gently.

”Don’t,” Tony begged and ordered, “just don’t.”

”Tony?” Bucky eased another step forward.

”I said _don’t _,”__ Tony put out a hand, indicating for Bucky to stop before tugging it back into his own personal space.

The next words were barely spoken, like a hiss of breath that got caught on a thought that had been circling his head.

” _I don’t want to hurt you._ ”

Bucky laughed aloud. He hadn’t meant to, it just sort of surprised him as it burst from his chest.

”Tony, I’ve had my arm ripped off, you really think a bite would hurt all that much? Steve’s crashed a plane, been shot in the stomach, and fallen off a helicarrier, and that’s just the stuff he’s told me. Clint’s just a walking disaster so a bite wouldn’t even add to that. Thor’s been tazered by a small woman-”

”I was without my hammer at the time,” Thor added stubbornly.

”Yep,” Bucky cheerfully agreed, “he’s also been beaten up by his brother, fought with you before, and dropped inside a glass cage thing. Natasha could bite harder than you so I don’t think you need to worry there, and Bruce… well maybe don’t bite Bruce, the other guy might drop by.”

”Not the best idea,” Steve agreed, stepping up to Bucky’s side, hand offered out, “it didn’t hurt, so don’t worry about us.”

But Bruce was frowning beside them.

”Why didn’t it hurt?” he asked, joining them to look at their already healed arms.

”I honestly can’t tell you,” Steve answered, “it sort of felt numb, like anesthetic, but that stuff doesn’t affect me or Bucky.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully, “maybe he gives off a chemical, or hormone. Maybe even a pheromone-”

”Hate to interrupt your sciencing doc, but Tony’s not looking so good,” Natasha slipped between them and placed her hand on Tony’s cheek.

Clint slid next to her, his hand feeling Tony’s forehead and neck. He didn’t know what he was looking for because Tony couldn’t get fevers anymore. He always seemed to match the temperature of the room. But he hoped Tony would find comfort in contact. Clint loathed the thought of Tony feeling repulsed with himself, or thinking that all the Avengers would feel disgusted by what someone else had made him. But Tony was shaking beneath his hands. Natasha gave him a look. And as they always did, they formed a plan silently.

”Tell us what you need,” Natasha commanded softly, “we want to help.”

Tony shook his head, nails digging in so hard that he was making himself bleed. But they watched as the scratches healed as fast as they were made.

”Are you hungry?” Clint asked.

Tony crinkled his nose, wiggling it slightly. Probably a yes but there was something more to it.

”Tony, you need to tell us what you need, because we don’t know how this feels and we have to rely on your instincts.”

”Fine,” Tony snapped, “I need Bruce to step back for a second and I’m fucking hungry _again _.__ I have to bite someone _again _.__  I have to _hurt_ one of you _again _.__ Happy?”

”Ecstatic,” Natasha answered with a deadpan voice and a hint of a smirk, “why does Bruce have to step back?”

”He smells… odd,” Tony admitted, as though the words were being dragged from him, “no offense Brucie-Bear, but you’re making me nauseous.”

Bruce stepped back, hands held in surrender, “is there anything I can do?”

Tony shook his head, “unfortunately no. It’s your… your blood. It’s contaminated.”

”And you can smell the radiation?”

Tony nodded, swallowing tightly. He hated every second of this.

”It wasn’t so bad a few weeks ago, but now-” Tony retched suddenly, dry heaving.

Natasha held him up, but stood out of range. Bruce took another step away, hoping the space would help. It seemed to, a little.

”Should we get some garlic to cover the smell?” Clint teased.

”Very funny,” Tony snarled, “laugh at my misery asshole.” _ _  
__

”You’re right, sorry,” Clint apologised sheepishly, “but you know that you can bite any one of us right now, and no one would mind.”

”But I don’t _want_ to bite anyone.”

Thor took a step closer, large hands placed on Tony’s shoulders, “Stark, we can’t make you eat but you need to.”

Silence. Tony didn’t answer, but instead was staring up at Thor with dark eyes.

”Thor, step back a sec.”

On Clint’s instruction, Thor stepped back to where he previously was.

”Now forward again.”

Thor stepped forward again without hesitation.

”Nat did you see?”

She nodded, “Thor, back, Steve come forward.”

Steve stepped forward as Thor stepped back and like a magnetic attraction, Tony’s eyes were pulled to Steve’s. And Steve almost gasped. The pupils were so large, they swallowed almost all the brown of his eyes. Only a small sliver remained. Tony was panting hard, mouth open and tongue darting out to lick his lips.

”Steve, back. Bucky forward.”

Everyone swapped over, Bucky stepping closer. And when no one but Clint and Natasha were near him his eyes were normal. But the moment Bucky was within reach, Tony’s eyes grew dark and glued on Bucky. He made no attempt to move but Natasha could feel his entire body tense.

”Well, you three seem to taste or smell particularly good to Tony.”

”Super human blood, damn he’s even got expensive tastes for this.”

Tony smiled at Clint, pulling himself from Natasha’s hold. He was charisma personified, leaning close into Clint’s space.

”Oh honey, if you’re jealous you need only say. I’m happy to give you a taste.”

And Clint almost offered himself up right there, Tony’s eyes golden and beautiful. In fact Tony was rather… good looking. His body was toned muscle, hair soft and shiny. He looked very much alive for someone who was technically dead. Clint tilted his head, giving Tony better access to his neck. But then Natasha whacked Tony around the head.

”Stop that!”

Tony froze and blinked at her, before tilting his head slightly in question. Her mouth curled irritably. What had he been doing? He’d been… he doesn’t quite know what he said. Or did.

”You were manipulating Clint!”

Tony pulled back in surprise, eyebrows shooting up.

”You- you didn’t know you could do that, did you?”

He shook his head slowly, before making an apologetic face at Clint. Clint waved him off, forgiving in an instant.

”Dude, just bite me if you’re hungry.”

But Tony, remaining stubborn, shook his head. Steve strode up and picked Tony up, holding his head against his neck.

”This is ridiculous, as your captain, I order you to eat.”

Tony hissed at him, pushing away. But Steve did smell good. He was so warm. And Steve was whispering something else in his ear, something soft that probably wasn’t meant to be heard.

”We don’t know what we’d do without you, so just please please eat.”

And Tony caved. He licked Steve’s neck. He didn’t know why, it just seemed like he should. Then he bit down, leaving two puncture wounds in Steve’s skin. Then he could taste it, warm and silky spreading over his tongue and filling his senses. Steve tasted sweet, and he tasted a bit like Christmas. Or at least how adverts portray Christmas. Wholesome and pure and surrounded by people you love and happiness. He tasted like how Tony felt when he was with Steve. Which was weird but whatever, he wasn’t going to question being given blood. He pulled away, blood dripping down his chin, resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. He was being eased out of Steve’s arms, feeling cold metal hook under his legs. He felt sated, entire body warm. He lay his head on Bucky’s chest. He could hear the steady thump of his heart, beating hard in his chest. It sounded odd. Like he was nervous or excited. Bucky plucked Steve’s handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Steve’s neck, Tony’s hands, and around Tony’s mouth.

”I think we’ll uh-” Natasha was edging towards the door, ushering everyone else out, “bye.”

And they left, leaving the boys to themselves. Tony was blinking awake, looking more alive than he had in weeks. There was colour to his skin, cheeks pink and flushed. His eyes were bright and clear and his skin was warmer.

”Do you feel better?” Steve asked, sitting himself down next to Tony.

Tony nodded, avoiding their eyes.

”Fuck sake, Tony,” Bucky gripped him by the grin and forced Tony to look at him, “you aren’t hurting us, give us thirty minutes and we’ll be as healthy as ever. So stop beating yourself up for something you can’t control.”

”But what if you and Steve, or any of you aren’t around? What if it’s Rhodey or Pepper and I kill them? What if it’s someone else? Some member of the public that I _attack_?”

”We’ll stay with you,” Steve took Tony’s hand, squeezing reassuringly.

Bucky nodded, taking the other hand, “Yeah, it’s ‘til the end of the line with us.”

Tony fanned himself, putting on a terrible southern accent, “Why Mister Barnes, that almost sounded like a proposal of marriage.”

Bucky grinned across at Steve, who nodded, sharing the smile.

”Well not yet, but we’d sure like to try taking you on a date first?”

Tony had gone completely still, not even breathing. He stayed that way for an length of time that would have been deeply unsettling, had Tony still been human.

”Tony? What do you say?”

Tony stood up suddenly, jerking out of his seat and running his hands over his jaw. He opened his mouth several times, raising hands to gesticulate but nothing. They had officially made Tony Stark speechless. Bucky would be a little proud of that, if it wasn’t kind of sad.

”Tony? Please say something?” Steve asked, standing to stop Tony’s pacing.

Tony raised his hand, gesturing to Steve wordlessly. Then he pointed at Bucky, mouth agape. He snapped his jaw shut, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

”Why?”

That was the only question Tony had. Because it was the only one he couldn’t fathom an answer for. The Avengers already had unlimited access to his money and his tech. He gave them places to live. They said ‘date’ so they weren’t after a one night stand. And now there was vampiric tendencies to add to the PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and obsession with building armour, so honestly why the fuck would Steve and Bucky want to risk their relationship for him, the literal definition of human garbage?

”Why what?”

”Just… what?”

Steve laughed softly, finally realising Tony’s confusion, “We want to date you because we like you, both of us. And we like you because you are kind and caring, passionate and creative.”

”Plus, you’ve got a great ass,” Bucky added, staring appreciatively from the sofa.

”But,” Tony frowned in confusion, “You have a great ass.”

They ended up in a very long discussion over who had the best ass. After a half hour debate nothing was agreed.

”But would you mind giving us some kind of response though? Even if it’s just to say you need some time to think it over?”

Tony didn’t pretend to misunderstand. But there was just one thing he wanted to know.

”Did you… when did you start liking me?” Tony asked, “Was it before the… change or after?”

”Before,” they chorused together.

He didn’t understand. He… wasn’t human anymore, not really. And yet they still wanted him.

”Can we please kiss you?” Steve asked politely, holding both of Tony’s hands.

Lightly, Tony realised. He could pull away if he wanted. He wanted to. But he didn’t. He nodded. Steve leaned in slowly. Still giving him time to change his mind. And then warm lips were on his, and Tony’s hands were on Steve’s waist and it felt like coming home. But Steve pulled away, turning to kiss Bucky. Bucky returned the kiss with passion, before turning to Tony. He raised his eyebrows in question. Tony nodded, the memory of a heartbeat caught in his throat. Harder, more impatient, demanding. Tony tangled his fingers into Bucky’s hair, dragging him down. He would almost think this was a dream, if he could actually remember the last time he slept. But whatever, he wasn’t going to question this, he didn’t want to question this. Bucky had picked him up, metal hand holding him off the ground, which was fine by Tony because his knees were weak. Steve was kissing his neck, which felt like a weird turn of events but Tony was happy to go with it. Steve’s hand stroked down Tony’s back, fingers curling in the hair at his nape, before running over the back of his arms. Then something happened. Steve’s hands tightened on his biceps, fingers pressing into his flesh. And Tony blacked out.


	5. Silver Linings on a Double Edged Blade

Well they were stumped. Tony had dropped like a stone. A very muscly squishy, stone. He was held up by Bucky, Steve bearing some of the weight too, not that it was consequential to either of them. But Tony was… they could only assume he was fine based on the snoring.

“He’s asleep,” Bucky was dumbfounded.

”Vampires can sleep?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders in a vague ‘I don’t know’ gesture. How was he to know? Did he look like a fucking professor in Vampire biology? Steve gave him a helpless look as they carefully set Tony down on the sofa. Another gentle snore and Tony rolled over, cheek smushed against a cushion. He snuffled and rubbed his face with the back of his hand. Slowly his eyes flickered open, gazing up at Steve and Bucky.

”Mmm,” He murmured, “what happened?”

”We’re trying to figure that out.”

Tony nodded against the cushion, “Hmmm okay.”

”Were you asleep?” Bucky asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa by Tony’s head.

Steve joined him, Tony’s feet in his lap. Tony hummed happily, curling into himself a little. He reminded Bucky of a cat. A particularly happy cat. One that had eaten all the cream.

”Sleep… I don’t know. But I feel fine. Better.”

“What happened?”

”I don’t know,” Tony lifted his hand from the sofa, twirling it in a circle, “things. Can we… can’t we talk about it later? I just- it’s been a long day.”

”We really can’t leave it,” Steve said gently, stroking down Tony’s leg, “you passed out for basically no reason.”

Tony sighed sadly, “fine, but Jarvis, tell them I’m doing this under duress.”

Before Tony, none of the Avengers knew that a computer could sigh, and sound disappointed. But then Tony came along, and Jarvis came with him, giving them an electronic exhale.

”Sir would like it noted that he is acting under duress.”

”Duly noted,” Bucky agreed with a wry smile.

He hoisted Tony into a sitting position, Tony slipping his hand into the metal one. Tony groused under his breath. He hated this. He was tired. Tired of trying to figure everything out, tired of feeling out of it, and tired of not being in control of himself. He hated this. He hated not knowing what he was, what he had become. He just wanted to make out with two people who were apparently crazy enough to date him, fangs and all.

”So what happened?”

Tony closed his eyes, trying to think back. The sun was coming up, and the light was bothering him. He could feel a headache building between his eyes, like a smouldering fire inside his head. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could hide in the dark, like the monster he is.

”We were kissing, and Steve was kissing my neck. Then he ran his hands down my back and arms and then… I don’t know. It’s kind of like sleep I guess.”

”So was it the kissing on the lips, or neck that did it?”

Tony shook his head, “I don’t think so, we were-” Tony coughed, blushing like a schoolboy, “we were all kissing for a while and it didn’t happen.”

”So something to do with your back or arms then?” Steve suggested.

Tony shrugged, leaning himself against Steve. He felt odd in his own skin. Like he’d crawled inside someone else and was hiding there, away from the vampire part that was eating him alive. But Steve, he wasn’t hiding. Quite the opposite. He was touching, freely and easily, a hand on the leg or fingers brushing his side or a foot nudging his. Small things but it was so much more than contact. It was reassurance. It was his lifeline to humanity. But to Steve it was nothing at all. Steve was lifting up his shirt, fingers gentle against his back. Steve was tracing up his spine and around his rib cage, fingers light and reverent. Like Tony was something valuable, something that wasn’t already broken.

”Nothing visible on the back.”

Tony pulled off his shirt. And Bucky and Steve couldn’t help but stare. Tony was handsome before, dashing and debonair. But now, he was almost ethereal. He was so pale he seemed to glow in the weak winter sun. His eyes so dark and full of unspoken thoughts that they seemed to give you the universe in a look. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion he’d be making a lot of coffee for Tony. But he seemed stronger now, and Tony was muscled before. But everything was defined, casting shadows as he stretched, the flex and movement of his back. He looked other-worldly, a Demi-God that got lost on his way. But Steve’s eyes were drawn to two small marks on Tony’s arm. The back of the arm, almost under the armpit. Two circular marks, paler than Tony’s already alabaster skin.

”What are these?” Steve asked, gently indicating with his fingers.

Tony twisted and turned, trying to see what Steve was pointing to. But no luck. It was just no possible way for Tony to see what Steve could see. Bucky moved next to Steve to inspect. He touched his neck, before getting Steve to turn his head. Two small circular bite marks on the side of Steve’s neck. Almost but not entirely healed. Just a small scab remained. And the marks on Tony’s arm looked incredibly similar. Shape and size matched. Like a scar from a bite.

”Tony, where were you bitten?”

”Fuck me if I know.”

“Do you know?” Bucky asked, sounding far too hopeful.

Tony, catching Bucky’s grin, sighed in disappointment, “unfortunately no. I woke up in a box, feeling like crap and looking even worse.”

”Tony, I think- I think you were bitten here.”

Bucky ran a finger over the marks. Tony shivered, eyes becoming heavy.

”That,” Tony hummed, “that feels nice, that- you should… that…”

He trailed off, voice slurred. Bucky kept stroking gently, the back of his hand brushing across the marks. Bucky stilled his hand for a second. Tony blinked, suddenly awake and vibrant.

”Why did you stop?” he asked.

Steve frowned, massaging the scars with more pressure than Bucky. And all the lights went out for Tony. His head fell forward, his body slumped, and his breathing evened out. A gentle snore reassured both Steve and Bucky.

”So…” Steve said pointlessly, maintaining the gentle movement of his fingers.

”Did we find his off switch?”

But Tony’s face morphed into a grimace, even while he was sleeping. Steve stopped immediately. Tony roused quickly, flinching at something neither of the other men could feel or see.

”Fuck,” Tony groaned, voice laced with pain.

”What’s wrong?”

”Urgh,” Tony threw his arm over his eyes, “uhnn.”

Steve realised first, “Jarvis, could you please darken the room?”

”Of course Captain,” Jarvis obliged quickly, the room darkening to near pitch.

Only from Serum enhanced senses were the two soldiers able to see. Tony was still gritting his teeth in pain. And then they saw. Red and blistered, raw and burnt, Tony’s foot had been laying in the sun while Steve and Bucky had been touching the scars on his arm. Bucky cursed loudly.

”Language,” Tony said with a faint smile, “Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk.”

”Your foot!”

”I am aware,” Tony answered, dry wit masking pain.

”Can we help?”

”You can do the strokey thing, that’s-” Tony sighed, “that’s nice.”

”Do you want to go to bed? We can do it in bed.”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Steve rolled his eyes.

”Not _that_. You’re dating two old-fashioned guys. We’re going to woo you.”

”Screw wooing, I’m not that old fashioned,” Bucky whispered into the shell of his ear.

”No need to woo me, I’m easy.”

”But we want to,” Steve insisted.

Tony dismissed him with a wave of his hand, “whatever.”

”But do you want to rest in a bed?” Bucky asked, standing and offering his hand.

Tony took it in lieu of an answer and they walked down the corridor. Tony sort of led the way, somewhat haphazardly. He took them through the elevator and down seldom used corridors. Avoiding sunlight, Bucky realised. Tony was limping slightly, lips bowed in pain. He eventually stopped. Frowning.

”I can’t get to my floor.”

He cursed his own design plan. Every route he took to his room was blocked by sunlight streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows. But to be fair to himself, those windows could withstand: fire; floods; earthquakes; electrical storms; gunfire; military grade weapons, and a majority of other possible threats. He just hadn’t planned for vampires. Jarvis, bless his circuits, was dimming lights and blacking out windows. But it still wasn’t quite enough.

Steve shrugged, “how about our room then?”

Tony mused on the thought for a second before nodding uncertainly, “alright.”

 

Their room was currently the best room. The sun was only just starting to rise and Steve’s and Bucky’s room faced west. Tony had designed it that way so that the soldiers wouldn’t be woken by the sun every morning. They woke up at the crack of dawn regardless so that was wasted on them. They reached Steve and Bucky’s bedroom door. Steve and Bucky walked right in. They were at home. Possessions were dotted about the room, books on end tables and a sweater placed haphazardly on the end of the bed. A couple of framed photos, not too many. One of the frames was lying face down on a cabinet. Tony desperately wanted to look but he shouldn’t, couldn’t. Bucky stripped out of his top, searching his and Steve’s shared wardrobe for something to wear while asleep. He came back with a plain white tee, and suddenly Tony was hyper aware of the fact he was still shirtless. He crossed his arms over his chest, still standing at the threshold. He wanted to walk in. But he couldn’t. Steve had walked into the walk in wardrobe and changed into checked pajamas. He managed to look like a complete dork and unbelievably hot. But Tony couldn’t walk up to Steve and tell him that he wanted to rip those dorky pajamas off him, no. Because for some reason he couldn’t walk into their room.

”Tony? You alright?”

He nodded, shifting his weight onto his good foot. He was alright. But confused. He never liked being confused. Bucky poked his head out of the wardrobe, having resumed his search for clean clothing. He frowned before ducking back in. He returned the next moment, holding a soft slate grey sweater with Steve’s shield emblazoned on the front. Tony was quite certain that he had given that to Steve for Christmas. As a joke present. When he first moved in. But it looked well-worn, well-loved. The shield was cracked slightly, the design faded from multiple wears and multiple washes. Bucky carefully placed it in Tony’s hands, fingers lingering for a moment longer than natural. And then he turned and walked over to the bed. Tony pulled on the sweater and wanted to follow. Wanted to. But couldn’t. Tony sighed irritably, catching the full attention of the room. Bucky made a soft noise, a gasp of an ‘ah’ before he bowed deeply, offering his hand across the threshold.

”Would you like to come in?” Bucky grinned up at him.

Tony nodded, taking the hand. The imaginary barrier gone, he walked around the room.

”Vampires need to be invited inside,” Bucky explained to a confused Steve, before holding up his hands in surrender, “I like reading horror stories,” he defended himself at Steve’s look, “so sue me.”

”I’m just wondering how I didn’t know that already.”

”He also likes bad monster movies,” Tony shrugged. At Bucky’s betrayed look Tony shrugged again, “I asked Jarvis why Clint had bought Mega Piranha on DVD and on the Cloud. He said that you bought the Cloud version.”

”Jarvis, how could you?” Bucky sounded hurt, but everyone in the room - or the omnipresent being in Jarvis’s case - knew there was no power in the words.

”In future, I shall endeavour to keep your poor life choices quiet, Sergeant Barnes-”

Tony snickered loudly.

”-Just as I do for sir.”

”HEY!”

”He has a point,” Steve nudged him gently.

”I know but still. Rude.”

Bucky and Steve laughed as Tony pouted up at the ceiling.

”Have you managed to get Jarvis to… see you? Yet?”

”Not yet,” Tony shook his head, smile disappearing and immediately swapped for a worried frown, “and if I can’t then,” Tony dropped onto the bed, fiddling with his hands, “then I… I don’t know.”

If he couldn’t find a way to get Jarvis to see him then he’d have to give up being Iron Man. But that wasn’t something he was prepared to say aloud yet.

“Can we help?”

Tony laughed sadly, “I really don’t know. This is kind of new to all of us,” he lay down along the foot of the bed, arm covering his eyes, “I’d just really like to pretend nothing exists for a bit. I don’t even want to think about how this is going to affect the company. Stocks took a big enough hit when I came out. If I come out as a fucking vampire, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to work my ass off 24/7 which is fine because I don’t actually _need_ sleep now, but you know, Avengering and everything takes some of my time so I don’t actually have 24/7 free and-”

Tony kept rambling with increasing speed, reeling off information that meant nothing and thoughts that felt like _something._ But the thought was gone in the next second, buried in an avalanche of other words. 

”-And now because of this I have to work on Jarvis and _sure_ I’m good with computers but this is something that I don’t comprehend and honestly that’s terrifying, but hey at least now I have stuff to do, more things to work on. I have to create some new silver weapons for Clint, and find a way for Natasha can handle this - and of course I need to make adjustments to your arm, Barnes, and-”

Steve was missing half of what Tony said through the sheer speed at which he was saying it. So instead he lay next to Tony. Bucky joined them. And Tony stopped, suddenly very conscious that they had moved closer instead of further away. That never ceased to surprise him.

”Jay, did you get all of that sir?”

”If you are asking if I understood then no sir, you were nearly incoherent. However your words have been noted and saved to the workshop.”

”Thanks, Mister Jay.”

”For you, Harls, anything.”

Tony blinked up at the ceiling. Huh… Jarvis had been reading his Batman Comics. Well that was… that just seemed to match the rest of the way his life was going. Tony pointed straight up.

”You aren’t my Mister Jay. You’re my Bernie Beaver.”

”I do believe that other people can hear me.”

”Pffft, details details.”

Tony dismissed his AI with a rude gesture.

”Do you want to sleep for a bit?” Bucky asked, hand brushing up Tony’s forearm.

Tony curled up against Bucky’s chest, wiggling back against Steve.

”I’ll take that as a yes,” Bucky laughed.

Tony closed his eyes just to listen to it. Steve had joined in too and Tony could feel the movement against his back. The sound was warm and comforting, like a cloak, a shield against everything he would have to face. If Steve and Bucky were laughing, things had to be okay. He needed to believe that. Bucky’s metal fingers pressed gently against the scars on his arm, and he was out like a light.

 

“What do you think?”

”I think,” Steve exhaled harshly, “that I really don’t know what to think.”

Bucky nodded, pulling Tony closer to himself. Steve cuddled closer, enveloping Tony in warmth.

”We need to think long term,” Bucky admitted, “scheduling and logistics and… worst case scenarios.”

”Bucky-”

”We came up with a worst case scenario plan when I came back. You know Tony would want one. It’s a safety net.”

”I know,” Steve hid his face against Tony’s back, “I just… I want to… sleep, and think about it when we wake up.”

”We can do that.”

”He deserves a say in it too, it feels wrong to talk about this over his head.”

”Yeah, he’d hate that.”

Bucky tucked his flesh hand under Tony, wiggling his fingers at Steve. Steve grinned, taking his hand and squeezing gently. They both settled down against the mattress. Bucky flexed his metal fingers slightly, Tony shivering in his sleep. But he smiled too so that seemed okay.

”Tomorrow,” Steve said.

And that word had so many meanings. A statement. A Promise. A declaration. But also a question. Will this new and fragile thing last that long? Will they all be here when the sun rises?

 

No. No they wouldn’t. Partly because they had all gone to sleep at 8am so there was no way two super soldiers would sleep for nearly 24 hours straight. But mostly because Tony had started talking in his sleep after three hours of peaceful and relaxed rest. His words were soft spoken, slightly slurred by the pillow pressed against the side of his face. And they didn’t seem to be his own words, the tone of his voice spoke of fear. The tone twisted and changed into a mockery of a voice. 

”How will your friends have time for me, when they’re so busy fighting you?”

The words felt chilling, ominous in their telling. Bucky carefully eased his metal hand off Tony but Tony snapped awake any way. He scrambled away blinking at the two people lying on the bed. Tony was panting heavily, back pressed to the door. He blinked quickly, hand resting on his chest. His fingers began tapping out his non-existent heartbeat, a steady thrumming against his breastbone. It slowed in gradual increments, finally his palm coming to rest on his chest. Tony shook his head slightly.

”Sorry I-”

He didn’t finish, cutting off whatever thought he had.

”I have to go.”

And Tony was gone.

 

“Jarvis, fire up the workshop.”

”Of course, Sir.”

Tony strode down the hallways, into the elevator and next moment he was being whisked away to the darkness of his artificially lit workshop. No windows. Perfect. No natural light dared reach the confines of his Batcave. He threw himself onto a workbench, sweeping away a pile of wire and letting it tumble to the floor.

”Jay, new project.”

”And what would you like to call this project?”

”Operation: Too Busy.”

”Of course sir.”

Tony began to manipulate the projections Jarvis had created, muttering as he wrote on thin air. He needed a plan. He needed to keep them, everyone safe. It used to be from other people. But now, it was from himself. And potentially any other vampires who want to see the world burn… or bleed. He knew some weaknesses already: water; garlic; sunlight. He’d have difficulty replicating that last one. He’d already tried to see if UV light had the same effect. It did not. So he needed to make pure water and garlic into weapons that would stop him… one way or another.

”Jay, what methods can kill a vampire? Not the stuff you’ve already said, those aren’t feasible. Is there anything else?”

”Sir?”

”Entirely hypothetical, of course. Right Jay?”

”Of course,” But Jarvis sounded doubtful, and Tony couldn’t blame him. He was lying through his teeth, “Holy water is often suggested, as is decapitation. Some lore also mentions that the mouth of the decapitated head must be stuffed with garlic to avoid possible resurrection-”

”Pfft, what am I, some kind of impossible-to-kill superbeing?”

“Precisely sir-”

” _Really?_ Well shit.”

”Indeed sir. It’s also suggested that a Vampire avoids certain plants, particularly those which are said to symbolise new life. Silver due to its purifying properties, as well as the aforementioned Stake to the Heart. The stake must be made in a particular way, either taking on the shape of a religious artifact such as a crucifix, or made of a plant said to represent new life. One could tip the stake with silver to make it more effective. Or any weapon blessed by a religious figurehead is also believed to cause significant, and potentially fatal, injury. This is all conjecture, of course.”

”Yep,” Tony agreed cheerily, “but folklore is as good of a place to start as any. We got any coffee?”

 

It had been four days since anyone had seen him. They knew where he was, the blaring ACDC gave that away. But with the workshop in total lockdown, no one could get in or out. And they’d tried. The adamantium shutters had several vibranium dents. Half were thin, slit-like dents. And the others were round and uneven, dotted all over the doors. And a fresh one was about to be made. Bucky slammed his metal fist into the shutters, only feeling slightly satisfied by the sound of metal crumbling under his fingers.

”Dammit Tony, open up!”

The shutters began grinding up, the damage making them move slower. Both Steve and Bucky ducked under it to reach the workshop. Though they could hardly see the workshop. Tony had been busy. Boxes upon boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling. Bucky pulled one down and opened it. Bullets. He glanced at the other boxes. They couldn’t all be filled with bullets, surely? He opened another and found a set of sharp gleaming daggers. A third box revealed wooden branches, all tipped in silver. Tony walked over, smiling at them as he set another box in the pile. His smile was unnerving it its calmness, something in his eyes resigned. Bucky peered inside the box Tony was setting down. Thin silver wire. Bucky ran his finger along it, just for a second. But he felt a moment of pain before pulling his hand away. Sharp. Like a papercut. A trickle of red ran down his finger. Must be garrotting wire for Natasha. He turned to Tony to ask but Tony was frozen completely still, eyes clenched shut and breathing in heaving gasps. Steve stepped forwards, hands resting on both of Tony’s shoulders.

”You’re okay, right?”

Tony nodded, swallowing hard.

”I need to hear the words.”

”I’m-” Tony sucked in a sharp breath, “I’m…”

Whatever words Tony had wanted to say flew away from him as Bucky stepped closer.

”Panic attack?”

Tony shook his head. Would it be weird if he licked Bucky’s finger? The answer would always be yes, but could he get away with it now? They were dating. Could he pass it off as sexy? Why did blood suddenly smell so much better?

”Buck, your hand,” Steve release his grip on Tony’s shoulder to lift Bucky’s hand for inspection.

And then it clicked.

”Shit sorry,” Bucky apologised hurriedly.

Tony’s eyes snapped open, guilt surging to the surface, “don’t! Just don’t be sorry. I’m the fucking-” his hands clenched at his hair, tugging sharply until Steve pulled them away, “I’m the monster. Don’t be sorry for a fucking cut. I should- it’s my fault- I should be apologising to you and just- you’re bleeding and I’m here drooling over it like a freak and I’m so- I am just really fucking sorry.”

Bucky quickly wrapped his hand in his handkerchief, Tony purposefully looking anywhere but where Barnes was standing.

“It’s okay Tony, we get it,” Bucky tried to reassure as he stepped closer, “this is a new and scary change-“

“This isn’t puberty, Barnes,” Tony snapped, eyes opening only to glare at the soldier, “This doesn’t go away in a few years after some acne and awkward year book photos. I’m stuck like this. I need to learn to control it. And if I can’t? Well, that’s why I made all of this.” He gestured around him, spinning in a circle with his arms outstretched at the boxes and boxes of weapons.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was somehow a plea, a warning, and a question in one, “why did you make all of these?”

He shrugged, turning to his workbench to mess with what was most likely another design that could mean his untimely end.

“Tony, please, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t. We shouldn’t be doing any of this. It was stupid to get involved with you two, and it was stupid to let you into this lab, and it was stupid to let you all live here.”

Tony made a dash for the door, jumping clean over where Bucky and Steve were in the way, and running from the room.


End file.
